Relocation Factor
by Westey
Summary: Betrayed by superiors, a soldier is whisked away to the land of Equestria, where he hopes to leave his life of war and violence behind. But when his past tracks him down, he must fight to protect this land of love that he wishes to call his new home.
1. Chapter 1

Relocation Factor

* Author's note: this is my first time writing something for this site after being a long time reader. Read and review, but please be gentle ;). Anyway, enjoy.

Sergeant Bren MacMillan scanned the hillside with the sight of his rifle, the crosshairs tracing a path over the sandy rock. Satisfied with the emptiness he observed, he lowered the weapon and gave the signal for the rest of the team to move up. The sun was just beginning to set on the Afghan countryside, and with just less than an hour until dark, they were on time, as always. Bren was often made point man or lead scout due to his top-notch athletic abilities, which were impressive even by special forces standards.

The Canadian Joint Task Force-Two patrol began to crest over the hill, guns scanning in all directions for threats. Bren darted back to the main body of the group, and took his place next to the patrol commander, his good friend Lieutenant Craig Alexander. A shorter, stockier man rapidly approaching forty, Craig was a true soldier's soldier; he had begun his career as a non-commissioned member like Bren had, and applying for officer later in his career. Once he had passed all of the training and was a full certified Lieutenant, he immediately applied for JTF-2 selection. As such, he was treated just like one of the guys, and avoided the "pointy-head" stereotypes that NCMs tended to throw at their commissioned brothers.

"Looks good straight up to the objective. Shouldn't be far now. What's in this compound that has Joson pulling out the twelve hairs he has left?" Bren cracked a smile as he mentally pictured their commanding officer Colonel Graham Joson, an older balding man with a chevron mustache and a beer gut that seemed to be continually expanding.

"I'm not sure. He said something about a device that had fallen off the back of a chopper or something. Pretty serious piece of kit by the sound of it. " The Lieutenant shrugged his broad shoulders. "But hey, why are you asking me? I just tell the guys to walk around with guns. Not really calling any shots here."

The patrol continued towards their objective as darkness crept up on them. At long last, their objective was in sight: a small trio of huts on a seemingly out-of-place patch of flat ground. Two men patrolled either side, armed with Russian made AK-47 rifles, relics of the Cold War that seemed to pop up wherever you go in the world. They didn't look too experienced; they joked and laughed with each other, they paused randomly to smoke marijuana, and their weapons were casually slung over their shoulders like a mailman's satchel.

"Looks pretty easy," said Bren, as he swapped out the American ACOG scope on his rifle for an EOTech holographic sight. The EOTech would be far better for shooting at close quarters, especially in darkness. All else fails, and his C8 carbine had a back-up pair of flip-up iron sights on it.

"I was just thinking that. I guess these clowns have no idea what they just captured." Craig chuckled at the poor display of duty before him as he waved for the sharpshooters and cutoff teams to move into position, ready to provide cover and prevent anyone from getting in or out. "You ready for this?"

"Does Joson need to invest in a hairpiece?" Bren's sarcastic response told the commando officer all he needed. He signalled over the radio that the raid was on. Instantly, the two roving pairs of guards were dropped almost simultaneously by the accurate sniper shots. With reflexes not dulled by their age or experience, Bren and Craig charged towards the center hut, while the other men in the patrol split up to clear the other two. Bren and Craig stacked up against the door, and the second he felt the Lieutenant's reassuring squeeze on his lean tricep, Bren kicked the flimsy door off of its hinges and tossed in a nine-banger distraction device, a small grenade that made nine rapid bangs to disorient the occupants of the room. After the ninth bang, the two operators stormed into the building, rifles at the ready. Bren saw the two occupants of the room, still dazed by the nine-banger, were drunkenly trying to unsling their rifles. Performing a textbook double tap, Bren fired two rounds into the center mass of the closest man, sending him to the floor in a heap. Craig followed suit with the second.

The two men moved through the small house, finding nothing but empty rooms, stacks of ammunition, food and drugs. No sign of the device they were to retrieve. As they breached the last room, it was as though they walked into a different building on the other side of the world.

A science lab. A modern, honest-to-God science lab, like the one that a person might find in a respected university. Polished walls, finished floors, and a sterile smell as though the place had just been cleaned. At the back of the room was a thick sheet of glass with a door at the side. Beyond the glass lay a large grey box the size of a barbeque with various panels on it. The two soldiers entered the door and examined the device.

"Yep, 'STARLIGHT'," said Bren, reading the inscription on the side. "Looks like we've got the package, boss."

Craig was about to alert the rest of the team when one of the sniper teams came in over the radio. "We have possible hostiles inside the perimeter. These guys are looking pretty tooled up, boss. M16s, frag grenades, the whole works. Looks like they might be contractors. What they hell are they…" his speech was cut off by the sound of automatic gunfire. "Oh shit, contact! They've spotted us! They're engaging!" Bren and Crag turned to exit the room and join the firefight when they spotted a familiar figure behind the glass. Dressed in well-maintained CADPAT camouflage fatigues stood a small figure with a chevron mustache, a protruding gut and thin hair. Joson.

"Colonel, what the fuck are you doing here?" Bren said in disbelief. The Colonel flipped a switch on the instrument panel outside the glass, and the two men heard the doors lock.

"Good work recovering STARLIGHT, gentlemen. I knew I could count on you. Shame to lose such a good team, though." The old officer said with a wry smile.

"You bastard, you set us up!" Yelled Craig as he raised his rifle. He fired two shots at the Colonel only to have them smack harmlessly against the glass, creating spider web like cracks. Bulletproof.

"Well, business will be business gentlemen. This little device is a product our Taliban friends here nabbed from one of our…friends." He nodded towards outside, gesturing at the private mercenaries that were now in vicious battle with Bren and Craig's team. "We had to get it back. But I couldn't trust you with keeping the secret of what you'd saw. One of you was bound to do some research and find out what it is eventually." Bren twitched with anger and also with a feeling of helplessness as he was powerless to assist his men outside. "Yes, we couldn't have that. It's called a gap generation capacitor. Rather than explaining all the science and details, why don't I just show you? A few more switches were manipulated and the device suddenly blinked to life, making an ever crescendoing whine. "It's been good knowing you, gentlemen. Farewell." Joson snapped his heels together and saluted. Bren began to foam at the mouth with rage. Betrayed by his own commanding officer…who had been in the mercenaries' pocket for God knows how long. He smashed at the glass with the but of his carbine, determined to break through and tear Joson limb from limb. All of a sudden the whining stopped, and Bren looked back to see the device emit a blinding flash and a deafening, low pitched boom. He saw Craig get thrown into the air and smack his head hard against the fortified walls. He wanted to scream his friend's name but soon everything went black and silent, save for the sound of his own breath.

When his vision returned, he seemed to be falling. Red, thick and pulpy walls that pulsated and contracted surrounded him as though he was moving down the throat of some great beast. The silence and his breath had been replaced by thousands of voices screaming in unison. He felt himself hit the ground hard.

Opening his eyes, Bren used every ounce of energy to focus his eyes. His helmet, weighed down with the night vision rig, was stifling. He popped his chin strap and unceremoniously dumped the helmet on the ground. He looked around. He was somewhere far different from where he had just been; a lush green field with the sun shining through a crisp blue sky. He paid no attention to this new change nor to his rapidly slipping consciousness; he fumbled for his radio but heard only static. Bringing his mouth to the receiver he mumbled a drunkenly slurred, "Anyone...please…" before the pain became too great and he fell on his face. As his consciousness fleeted from his head, he heard a soft female voice.

"Oh…oh my!" The voice said. Too weak to respond, he just closed his eyes and let his mind power down, as he felt something grab the drag handle of his chest rig and begin to move his prone body through the soft grass.


	2. Chapter 2

Relocation Factor

Chapter Two: Elsewhere

A throbbing pain, like a painful, pounding heartbeat resonated through Bren's head. His stream of consciousness thinking, a word salad of vague concepts and partially finished ideas jogged through his head like a broken down steam engine approaching the last tunnel of its journey; his thoughts became progressively louder and clearer. Until everything clicked into place.

Bren's eyes shot open as he remembered, at least for the most part in sheer black and white objective terms, what had happened to him. Joson…Joson had sold him and the unit out. He had activated that weird box…Starfire or Sunlight or something. He remembered seeing Craig violently thrown against the wall…he remembered hearing the panicked radio transmission from the cutoff teams about the private contractors that had engaged them. Then…light and that…place. It felt like forever he fell down there. Then he remembered the field. He tried to re-establish radio contact with…anyone…and then he had passed out. Last thing he remembered was the voice of some unseen individual grabbing him and dragging him away.

He stopped focusing on recalling the events of recent and started focusing on his surroundings, his skill in observation honed by his years in special forces proving valuable in this situation. A featureless wooden roof, looking as though it was carved directly from a mighty tree itself, covered him. No light fixtures. The room was bright with sunlight streaming in through porthole-like windows scattered around the room. A single wooden door proved to be the gateway to this room. Sitting up, Bren saw that he was in some kind of library; oak shelved packed to the brim with books wallpapered the room.

Something was off. It was easier to sit up than it should have…his gear! A glance downward revealed that he had been stripped of everything but his camouflage fatigues; his chest rig, body armour, his pack, even his drop-leg holster for his sidearm were all missing. However, a glance to his right revealed that they weren't. They had all been neatly laid out on a nightstand next to him. Strangely, it looked as if the only touching done to his kit had been its removal from his body. His sidearm was still in the holster, his ammunition still in the pouches, even his back-up pistol, strapped to the front of his rig, was still securely in its place. A further check revealed that his boot knife and his main knife, clipped to his belt and dangling freely via a carabiner, were both still on him. Hell, even his kneepad was still buckled to his right knee. Whoever took him here clearly wasn't a professional.

He stood up to better survey his surroundings. Immediately drawing his sidearm, a SIG P226 9mm pistol from its holster, he checked the chamber and magazine. To his continued surprise, both were loaded and armed, ready for firing. Keeping the pistol at low ready, he shifted his weight forward onto his feet to conduct a further inspection of the room. The headache was back…something fierce. It was hard to focus. He suspected a concussion; he had had one before, and this felt awfully familiar. He willed himself through the pain, although every step became harder than the last. He saw that his rifle had been leaning against the table he was on, the barrel pointing dangerously close to where his head had been. Bren saw a mirror fixed to another nightstand in the corner of the room. He would check himself out, see the extent of his injuries, and then make his escape. His main priority would be to try and re-establish radio contact with someone, and try to warn them about Joson.

Shambling to the mirror, he laid the SIG on the table and examined himself. Sure enough, there was a decent sized lump on the back of his head. Apart from another few miscellaneous cuts and bruises across his tall, lean and athletic frame, everything seemed normal…except this bloody headache. It was borderline unbearable now. Maybe contacting someone to let them know about Joson's betrayal could wait until he found some asprin or something…

His train of thought was interrupted by the sound of the wooden door slowly creaking open. He snatched the pistol off the table and spun to face the door, dropping to a knee and bringing the pistol sights up to his eyes. His vision was blurry now. He was having trouble focusing on the front sight post. _Focus, Bren, focus._ He applied all the effort he had to remain conscious and focused. The door finally eased open more, and in walked something that contorted his face into a mask of equal parts horror, surprise and complete bewilderment.

A horse. A Goddamned yellow horse with purple hair, about five feet tall at the top of her head and with eyes the size of baseballs poked its head through the door. Bren simply lowered the weapon in disbelief and tried to focus on it while simultaneously making sounds of disbelief. And then it spoke.

"Oh…hello. I didn't know you were awake just yet." For reasons known only to God, this statement snapped Bren's mind back into focus, and he managed to bring the pistol back to the ready, although he now had to strain and keep one eye closed to keep his focus on the sights. The horse looked unfazed by his aggressive stance, and continued to advance toward him, smiling softly.

"Back!" snarled Bren. "Get back!" The horse stopped with a look of confusion on its unusually human like face. A thump came from upstairs, as did another voice, this one sounding much younger, almost prepubescent.

"Hey! Did he finally wake up?"

"Yes," said the yellow horse softly. "he's just gotten up from his…"

"I said get the fuck back!" barked Bren once more. This time the horse looked afraid of him and started to move away. He darted his pistol between it and the stairs. _Should have checked the stairs,_ he scolded himself. _Stupid. Rookie mistake. Stupid, stupid, stupid._ The yellow horse continued to look at him with a mix of startled surprise and sadness. "Back…" he said again as he felt his focus and consciousness drifting away. "All of you…get…" and once again he tasted the cold embrace of the ground and blackness.

"It's been asleep for a long time. Almost a whole day. Is it dead?" rang out another voice, this one sounding more energetic and raspy. The rhythmic pounding in his head had been reduced to a dull roar. Not 100%, but at least now Bren could hear himself think.

"No…it's not dead." He croaked. "And since you haven't killed me yet, I'm not going to bother with drawing on you again."

Yet another voice chimed in, this one sounding childlike and high pitched. "Ooh, drawing? I love drawing! I can get some crayons, and markers, and oil pastels, and…" This voice was silenced by multiple others hushing in unison. Bren forced his eyes open and turned his head towards the source of the voices. Recoiling slightly in surprise, he saw that more of these horse things were lined up to the left side of him. There was a bright pink one, a white and purple one, with the yellow one from earlier standing sheepishly behind it, an orange one with what appeared to be a cowboy hat, and a blue one with rainbow coloured streaks in its hair. Then next to it was a tiny, purple and green…dragon…thing, that looked like someone had stuffed Barney the Dinosaur into a magical shrinking device. Throwing his legs over the side of the table he was rested on, he rubbed his eyes groggily and sat up to face his bedside guests. Taking in another look, he dropped his head into his hands.

"Oh. Now it makes sense. I get it." The horses looked at each other in confusion and then at him. "I remember that table full of drugs in the compound. I must have slipped and inhaled all of it or something. I'm passed out in the middle of Afghanistan and this is all a hallucination to keep my mind off of the fact that the rest of the guys are drawing mustaches and penises on me."

The orange horse spoke up. "Well now, I don't reckon I know much of a place called 'Afghanistan', but I can assure you you ain't there, darlin'." This one spoke with an all-too-familiar drawl.

Bren scratched his head in disbelief. "Are you…are you from Texas?"

The rainbow coloured one stepped forward. " 'Afghanistan', 'Texas', you must be real confused. You're in neither. You're in Ponyville, in the Kingdom of Equestria!"

Bren blinked twice. "I'm where now?"


	3. Chapter 3

Relocation Factor

Chapter Three: Foot Patrol?

*AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to all that have read and reviewed, even you grammar Nazis ;) I wanted to bang off the first few chapters relatively quickly, so I could get past the usual "meeting everyone" stage and start getting into the real story. Updates from here on will be less frequent, but longer than before. Anyway, thanks very much for the support. Keep reading and reviewing and enjoy.

"Eh-kwess-tree-ah!" The rainbow coloured horse repeated itself phonetically as if it were talking to a deaf person. Bren had heard that name before. That's right! There was a small suburb of Pretoria, South Africa that he had passed through when he was doing a bit of close protection work. Still, he probably would have remembered talking Technicolor horses.

"Right," he muttered confusedly. "I'm assuming this Equestria isn't the same Equestria I'm familiar with. Let's move along to how the hell I got here."

The orange Texan one spoke again. "Y'all just appeared in a flash o' light out above the rabbit burrows in the hills. It was Fluttershy that found you and hauled you back over this way."

"Flutterwhat?" The plan of making sense of what was going on wasn't exactly working too well.

"Fluttershy…that's…that's me…" said the yellow one faintly, as it shuffled further behind the purple and white one.

"And I'd say you'd best be giving her an apology, mister. Yelling at her and scaring her like that ain't no way to make friends." The Texan asserted this loudly, puffing out its chest.

"Right, I guess. It's just that when you come directly from a warzone to a foreign place with a concussion, you tend to be a little wary and defensive. Anyway, for what it's worth, I'm sorry. This whole situation is just a little strange to me, is all." The yellow one cracked a faint smile. "You know what? Let's all start fresh. With names. I'm Sergeant MacMillan," he looked at the horses and decided they were clearly not military. "But you can call me Bren."

"I'm Rainbow Dash," said the raspy, multicoloured one. "I'm the fastest flier in all of Equestria!" Bren was already thinking about how Rainbow Dash sounded like the next instalment of a Tom Clancy game or something when the horse lifted itself off the ground and hovered triumphantly.

_So they can fly, too,_ thought Bren. _Awesome._

"I'm Applejack, pleased to be making your acquaintance. I work over at Sweet Apple Acres farm. If y'all are feeling hungry, feel free to come on over! Granny Smith has just whipped up a big batch of apple pie!" Bren mocked tipping his hat towards her, still struggling to get over the Texan accent. The fact that she shared the same name as a breakfast cereal didn't help either. Still, apple pie? One thing he learned in the military is that no matter what, there is always time for pie.

"Rarity, my dear," said the white and purple one. "And I'm absolutely charmed to meet you." This one spoke with a lilt that was equal parts posh English and Valley Girl. Bren shot her a nod and a wink as well. The yellow one behind her, Fluttershy, just smiled a timid smile.

With a lightning quick bound, the pink one jumped in front of the rest and began to talk in a manner so speedy it required her taking in huge gulps of air every few seconds. "Ooh, is it finally my turn? I'm so excited! I'm Pinkie Pie, and it's so great to meet you hand have a new friend! We should totally throw a party and celebrate! I could even sing the song I just wrote for it now!" The horse began to tear around the room with a combination of pogo stick-like vaults and cartwheels while she sang enthusiastically. "Oh welcome to our new friend Bren, he fell out of the sky! He got a great big lump on his head and he yelled at Fluttershy! He came into the…"

"PINKIE!" the other horses yelled in unison. Pinkie Pie screeched to a halt and smiled a toothy, unconcerned grin. Bren had now literally experienced pretty much everything. Teleported to a land of talking horses named after cereals and first person shooters that spoke with rich people and Texan accents that could fly and spontaneously broke into musical numbers. Maybe the Starlight engine had given him radiation poisoning and this was a side effect.

"Uh, excuse me?" said the purple and green miniature dragon thing. Bren remembered its voice as the one coming from the top of the stairs. "I always get overlooked. I'm Spike. My friend Twilight Sparkle is the one who lives in this house. She's away on Royal Duty with Princess Celestia right now, and she asked me to watch the place and make sure that PINKIE PIE doesn't have any parties without permission." Pinkie continued smiling and bouncing up and down in place. "I'm sure she won't mind you staying here, though. Come to think of it, I'll send her a message and let her know. I'm sure she as well as the Princess would love to meet you!" Bren's heart sank a little. Not only was he stranded in a strange world, but now he had a potential Royal Visit to worry about. He watched as the dragon scribbled some words onto a piece of parchment and rolled it up. Filling his lungs and then exhaling, the parchment evaporated into a green mist which escaped out the open window.

Bren was amazed. Instantly sending messages by blowing on them? Made the radios he was issued look like tin can phones. Half the time, getting the radio to work was an uphill battle. The radio. THE RADIO. He completely forgot that he needed to contact someone and warn them about Joson. The mild confusion and playfulness that had crept up on him during the introductions had now been replaced by cold hatred and rage.

Leaping off the table to his feet, all of the Equestrians took a step back. He absentmindedly walked around the table and began rifling through his pack. Pulling out a small green GPS device, he activated it and began running a start-up diagnostic. The ponies looked on quizzically.

"Uh, what's that?" asked Rainbow Dash.

"This," replied Bren, waving the GPS. "is a Global Positioning Satellite device. It'll help me find out where I am." The diagnostic complete, Bren frowned when he saw the result: no signal. Looking above him at the large wooden roof, he decided that might be the problem. This wasn't new; he recalled one instance during his basic training were a wooden drill hall managed to stuff the signal. All he needed to do was get to higher ground. From there, he could determine his position and grid location and use that to tell somebody where he was. From there…Joson. "Where's the highest point in the area?" Bren said abruptly.

"The top of the hills by Applejack's farm is pretty high up." Rainbow Dash still seemed confused.

"That's as good as anything, I suppose. Can you take me there?" The ponies all nodded in unison. "Great. Let me get my kit on." Bren walked over to the nightstand and donned his body armour, chest rig and drop leg holster. He press-checked all of his weapons to ensure that rounds were properly seated in the chamber. These six were nice enough, but his instincts told him to never get too comfortable. Talking ponies and a dragon? Who knows what else could be out there? After he made sure the radio and GPS were secure, he strapped on his pack and helmet and nodded towards the door.

The five ponies and the dragon marched towards the door with Bren in tow, until Rainbow Dash chimed in right before the group left. "Sorry Spike, but you have to stay here and watch the library, remember?" She smiled a snide grin. The little dragon slouched forward.

"Aw, I never get to do anything cool." He pouted. Rainbow slammed the door and rejoined the group as they headed off. Bren kept silent. What the hell could he have said, anyway? All he did was follow, rifle at the low ready, just in case. He was ready for anything…he hoped. As the group left, he turned back to see that the house he was in was in fact built directly into a giant oak tree. As they walked further, he saw more conventional looking houses, with hundreds of other multicoloured ponies milling about, doing everyday tasks like gardening and shopping at the many market stands set up around town. All stopped in their tracks just to stare at him. Bren stared back. He knew from experience that a firm, confident stare was a good way to deter any potential troublemakers. But would they understand? They all seemed docile, but what if one wasn't? He hoped the lessons he'd learned throughout his career would help him in this strange place.

After many minutes of walking, stares from the locals and bizarre silence from the rest of the five ponies guiding him, they emerged at a farm with rows upon rows of apple trees. Dozens of other ponies milled about, kicking the apples off of the trees, collecting them in buckets, or ploughing fields. Rising above the apple orchards was a large rocky hill. This must be the one Rainbow Dash mentioned. Perfect. It was more than high enough. "Thanks for the tip, guys. I'm gonna climb that hill and see if I can get a signal on my stuff," Bren said, nodding towards his pack.

"Why walk when you can fly? I can get you up there lightning fast!" boasted Rainbow Dash. Before Bren could answer, she stepped up to him and grasped the drag handle on his chest rig with her teeth. "Hang on!"

"Wait, what in the hell are you-" before he could finish, Rainbow Dash soared into the air, towing Bren all the way. "Oh SHIIIIIIIIIIIIT!" he screamed as he rocketed towards the clouds. Bellowing the entire way, they soared higher and higher until Rainbow Dash dropped him off unceremoniously on a flat patch of grass at the top of the hill. "Jesus Christ! Be careful next time!"

Rainbow Dash just giggled, smiled her sly smile and stood and watched Bren as he began to unpack his bag with still-shaking hands. Pulling out the GPS, the 521 radio and a telescoping three metre antenna, he ran a start up sequence on both devices and grabbed the GPS. He would find his position, relay it back to command and then…no satellites. The signal was good, the power was fine, but zero satellites were detected by the device. Even the compass feature had no reference point. The only info on it was a grid reference, blinking, which indicated that the GPS was unable to identify his current location, and was merely displaying his last known location. Bren recognized the number on the grid reference as the location of the hut he assaulted in Afghanistan. He definitely wasn't in Kansas anymore.

"No, no, that's not right. Gotta be at least one satellite…" Bren trailed off, mumbling in frustration, with the occasional "satellite" being the only coherent word. "FUCK!" Bren cursed as he tossed the GPS unceremoniously back into his pack. Rainbow Dash giggled again, amused at his frustration. Bren ignored her and connected the antenna to the radio. "2, this is 21, over." Nothing but static. He tried the backup frequency. "2, this is 21, please respond, over." Still nothing. He switched it to a non encrypted frequency, out of sheer desperation. Besides, the more people that knew about where he was…and about Joson…the better. "This is 21, can anyone read? Over." Nothing but crackling responded. Rainbow was still amused by all of this. Barely aware that she was there, Bren pressed the send button one more time.

"If anyone can hear me, this is Sergeant Bren MacMillan of callsign 21 Zulu. We were on a mission to assault an enemy camp and retrieve lost equipment at grid 097136. Colonel Joson was commanding the operation…he betrayed us. He activated the device we were supposed to recover, something called Starlight. I say again, Starlight. He is in command of a well trained and equipped group of private contractors who ambushed my team. All other members save for myself are presumed dead. I am not aware of my current location. If anyone can hear this, I will be monitoring this channel. I only have limited batteries for the radio, but I will be monitoring the channel constantly. Joson is not to be trusted. I say again, Joson is not to be trusted. MacMillan out." He packed up the radio and GPS to see Rainbow Dash still staring at him, this time with a look of sadness on her face. It was now that she understood what was going on: he was stranded here and unable to contact anyone he once knew.

"Uh…let me give you a lift back down." Rainbow Dash said nervously, trying to change the subject even before it started.

Bren shouldered his pack. "No thanks, Rainbow Dash. I could use the walk." He fastened his sternum strap and made his way on foot back down the rocky hill.


	4. Chapter 4

Relocation Factor

Chapter Four: Coping

Rainbow Dash looking at him as he shuffled away, Bren began the climb down the rocky hill where he had failed to contact someone back home. He tried not to think of how he was stranded here in this land of talking animals, but his subconscious kept trying to push through, insisting he devote his attention to it. The ensuing stalemate resulted in a nearly hour-long climb down while his mind was completely blank.

The terrain on the hill and the length of the journey sparked a memory which caused images of home to break through. He remembered growing up in Vancouver, and how he used to love climbing the Grind trail on Grouse Mountain. He hadn't done it for years on end; when he joined the military he was posted in Edmonton, and after he passed selection for special forces he was relocated again to Petawawa, outside Ottawa. Still, the memory of pushing himself up that trail with only a sweat towel and a few bottles of water for companionship was one that carried no bad memories or associations; it was perfect. And even though it had to be close to half a decade or more since he had done it, the memory of the lush mountainous hike being impossible for him to do every again filled his heart with sadness.

By the time he had forced his mind away from happier days, he had reached the bottom of the hill. He unslung his rifle and walked around to the other side where he had stood before Rainbow Dash carried him into the air. As he arrived, he noticed Applejack, who had set up a series of buckets beneath one of the luscious apple trees. A mighty kick from her hind legs rocked the apples off of the branches. A dull metallic sound resonated as they landed and filled up the buckets.

"Well howdy there, Bren! You didn't walk all the way down that hill by yourself, now did you? I'm sure Rainbow Dash would have given you a lift down as well as up!" Applejack's voice carried a friendly lilt to it, like a distant relative that was more of a close friend than family member. Still, the calmness of her voice did little to soothe the weary soldier.

"I talked with her already, Applejack. I figured I could use the walk down," Bren said, making no effort to hide the sadness in his voice.

Not missing a beat, Applejack donned a face of concern. "What's wrong, sugar cube?"

Bren had to think for a second on how to respond. She wouldn't understand what had just happened or what was going on. One thing he had learned is that it was no use denying that something was wrong; what was possible however, was reminding them that it didn't affect them. "Don't worry about it." Bren said simply.

"Well, whatever it is that's getting you down, maybe some fresh apple crumble could cheer you up? We've got some great apple cider for you to wash it down with too!" She seemed eager to help. Bren took a miniscule measure of comfort in that. Still, it didn't solve any of the problems on his rapidly lengthening list.

"Thanks but no thanks," he said, still trying to be polite. "I think I'll just head back to the library, though. I'll let you get back to work." Bren dragged his feet back the way he had came earlier. Applejack didn't resume her task of kicking apples from the trees; she simply stared at him as he walked away, looking nothing but concerned. As he made his way back through the village he didn't even bother to remain alert and tactical. His chinstrap was undone and swung freely in sync with his step, his eyes remained fixed on the floor, and he held his rifle in one hand by the slip ring, rather than up to his shoulder ready for use. What was the point? None of the locals were hostile. And if they were? Fuck it, let them come. No real point anymore. He was stranded here, his team and closest friend were dead, no one could hear his calls for help, and the man responsible for all of it was going to get away with it, and further his own plans of God knows what. And he'd probably betray more troops. And more good men would get torn up.

But the worst part of all wasn't any of that. He had been stranded before, where he thought there had been no hope of rescue. He had seen good friends get killed in front of him. He had been in operations that had been screwed over due to botched intelligence. No, what got to him the most was that he was powerless to do anything. With him stranded here who knows how far from home, and the rest of the team likely dead, Joson had effectively won. And that didn't just fill him with rage, it _hurt._ The fact that all power had been taken away from him to make things right was the worst feeling in the world. He was a little kid again, with an agenda of things he wanted to accomplish but was unable to because he was too young. Except that now "too young" had been replaced by "too far away".

By the time he made it back to the tree that the library was housed in, it was already dark. He planted himself against the solid trunk and just stared into the starry night sky. The moon, massive, white and round, had crested into view. Bren studied it and saw that it was different from the moon he had studied for many years back home in schools, and with his own eyes, trying to occupy time in trenches on training exercises. The craters and the dark seas were positioned all wrong. This was a moon, but it wasn't HIS moon. The reality of how far away he must be finally hit him, and then Bren MacMillan did something he hadn't done in years.

He cried. He leant his rifle against the trunk, crossed his arms across his knees to form a makeshift cradle for his head, discarded his helmet and wept. He wept for not one clear thing in particular, but for anything his mind could find the justification to shed tears over. He wept for the good friends he had lost. He wept for the good friends he lost before this whole mess even started. He wept for Craig. He wept for what little family he had left. He wept for the home he'd never see again. He wept that a madman was going to win. But most of all, he wept for himself, and the fact that there was nothing he could do.

"Excuse me, are you all right?" said an unseen voice. Snapping back to reality, he snatched up his rifle and pointed it at the source of the voice. Another pony was there, this one a dark purple with a unicorn horn sticking from its forehead. It recoiled and stepped back slightly in surprise. Bren lowered the weapon. He had drawn on enough friendlies today. "You must be Bren. I'm Twilight Sparkle. Spike sent me a message about you. Seems as though you've had a bit of a rough day."

Bren wiped the tears from his face and stood up to shake the Equestrian's hoof. "Bren MacMillan. Good too meet you. And you can't even begin to speculate on the day I've been having." Bren paused. "Sorry you had to see that. And sorry for drawing on you."

Twilight seemed confused by the second part of his sentence, but the first she addressed. "Don't apologise. Showing emotions isn't anything to be ashamed of." Bren could have drawn up a list of his beliefs against that a mile from end to end, and a list of personal experience confirming it just as long, but he didn't feel much in the mood for an argument. "Anyway, you're welcome to stay here as long as you like. I could use the company; it'd be a welcome bit of variety from just Spike and I."

Bren smiled. "Much obliged, Twilight. It's more than you owe me." Twilight seemed confused at this statement as well, but nonetheless the two opened the door and headed inside. Bren heard snoring sounds coming from up the stairs; it sounded like Spike was asleep. Bren kitted down, removing his armour, rig, pack, holster and kneepads. Assembling them in a neat pile and resting his helmet and rifle atop them like cherries on ice cream, he sighed a sigh of both relief from their burden and sadness.

There was a knock at the door. Twilight Sparkle's horn began to glow, and to Bren's surprised, the door swung open by itself. In marched Rarity and Fluttershy, with the former carrying a large satchel.

"Ah, Twilight! So good to see you! I hope you had a pleasant trip?"

"Good to see you too, Rarity. Same with you, Fluttershy." Twilight smiled. "The trip was great. I got a lot of work and studying done. Still, it is good to be back in Ponyville. I missed all of you. Speaking of which, what brings you here? It's getting awfully late."

"Yes dear, and we're so sorry to bother you at this hour, but we thought that that hike down the hill and back here would leave our new friend Bren here absolutely exhausted. I brought over some of my most expensive lotions and soaps. I figured our new friend here could use a clean up after such a long day rummaging about in all that awful dirt." Rarity shuddered at the mention of the word and handed the satchel to Bren. This could be useful. He hadn't packed his shaving kit before they left for the mission, so he didn't have any toiletries with him when he arrived. Now that he had this, he could at least keep himself clean.

"That's really nice of you, Rarity. All of my stuff is back where I'm from, so this is going to come in really handy. Thanks a lot. You too, Fluttershy." Bren smiled broadly and laid the bag down next to his kit. Fluttershy still avoided eye contact with him. He sighed. "Look, let's shoo the elephant out of the room. I know I said it earlier, but I have a feeling you didn't believe me. I really am sorry for yelling at you and threatening you, Fluttershy. You really have to understand that this is a really strange place for me. I came here directly from the middle of a fight for my life. I had no idea whether you were friendly or not. I couldn't take any chances. I know that I scared you in the course of that, and for that I'm truly sorry."

Fluttershy looked up at him this time. "That's…that's okay, Bren. I understand now that you were very scared. And I suppose I should have figured that after the first time you apologised you really didn't mean any harm."

There was another knock at the door, and this time Rainbow Dash and Applejack walked in. "Evenin' Twilight. Good to have you back. Pinkie Pie just finished cleaning out the cake shop, so she's proper passed out now that the sugar rush has worn off." Applejack looked at Bren. "Bren, something had been bothering me every since you left my farm. I know you said not to get my horseshoes all tangled up over it, but it still bothers me to see anypony that worked up over something. I brought over some leftover apple crumble and apple cider. Maybe we can talk it over? I'm a good listener." Bren's stomach rumbled. He hadn't eaten since about five hours before they stepped off for the mission. He was starving.

"Thanks, Applejack," was all he could think to say.

"I have something to say too, Bren," Rainbow Dash said nervously. "I'm really sorry I laughed at you. It just looked funny when you were getting angry after not being able to get any of your machines to work. I didn't know what you were trying to do with them. I didn't know you were trying to talk to your friends. When you wouldn't let me fly you down and walked off the hill instead, I just felt awful. I really didn't mean it." Rainbow Dash looked the most distraught out of the two of them.

"That's okay, it wasn't you. I would have walked down anyway even if you hadn't been giggling the whole time. I just needed the walk to clear my head." Bren looked at the ground. "For all the good it did. At any rate, apology accepted. Just next time warn be before you shoot me up into the air like that. I've been attached to SPIE rigs that were less terrifying." Despite not understanding the reference, Rainbow Dash cracked a smile. "Which reminds me, I'm probably keeping you awake, Twilight. Sorry about that."

"Oh, it's no trouble at all," replied Twilight. "I'm not that tired anyway." She looked around at the ensemble before her. "Say, seeing as how everypony is here, how about we all have a sleepover? I've only had one before, and that was just with Rarity and Applejack. I've never had one with all of you. Besides, I'd really like to learn a little about you, Bren!" The ponies all chattered excitedly.

"Well, I don't want to be a spoilsport…" Bren answered nervously.

"Great! Rarity, dig out some bedsheets and make a place for Bren to sleep. Applejack, bring the cider and food upstairs." The ponies moved off to their tasks while the remainder headed upstairs and sat in a circle. Spike continued to snore away. Bren admired that; it was a trait he shared himself. He could sleep through a damned nuclear explosion.

"So…uh…Twilight! Let's hear a bit about you." Bren said, getting the conversation started. He listened attentively as Twilight Sparkle told him the story of how she came to Ponyville; the battle with Luna, the Elements of Harmony, to Bren it all sounded a bit surreal, as though he was living in a cartoon show.

"…and that's how I wound up here in Ponyville," concluded Twilight. "The princess tasked me with remaining here so I can continue my studies of friendship and report my findings to her. I'm really interested to see what lessons I'll learn from you, being here, Bren!" Bren nervously chuckled at the flattery. "Which reminds me, I think it's time you told us your story! I'm sure all the others are as anxious to hear about where you came from as I am!" The ponies all nodded in unison.

Bren thought for a minute as to how he would word and simplify and explain all of this to them. He decided just to wing it as best as he could. "Well, I'll put things as simply as I can. I'm a soldier with the Canadian Forces. People like me basically protect our country from threats."

"Like the Royal Guards?" asked Rainbow Dash.

"Uh, sure." Bren said, having no idea what those were. "Anyway, the Canadian Forces is currently in this country called Afghanistan. Well, the main group has pulled out, but we left behind some people to train the police and military of the locals. And then there's guys like me, who do secret stuff." He thought long and hard about how he'd phrase his next part. "My team and I were on a mission to recover what we thought was a stolen piece of equipment. We were sent by a man named Colonel Joson." His teeth gritted at the mention of the traitorous officer's name. "When we found the device, Joson arrived with a group of private military contractors: mercenaries." When Bren saw the confusion on the ponies' faces, he clarified. "They're basically soldiers like me, but they work only for money. They don't care about defending their country or helping protect innocents. They're only after their next paycheck. They ambushed and killed my team, and before I could do anything to stop him, Joson activated the device, which somehow sent me here." The ponies now looked scared and saddened. "And that's why I need to get home. I need to find Joson…and I need to warn everyone that he's a traitor." Bren had clenched a fist in anger, which was now shaking violently.

Twilight broke the collective silence of the ponies. "So…when you find this Joson, what are you going to do?"

Bren's voice had reverted to its soldier mode: growly and rough. "I'm going to kill him," he said flatly. "I'm going to kill him and all of those mercenaries. Everyone that was involved in the betrayal of my team and I is dead. That's why I need to get home." He looked around and saw nothing but horrified faces from the ponies. "Uh, look, I should get to bed. The rest of you have fun." He abruptly stood up and retired to downstairs. Passing his bed, he pulled up a chair and stared out the window, trying in vain to channel his rage into the night sky. He heard the clopping of hooves approaching and turned to see Applejack gingerly pull up beside him.

"Look, sugar cube, that story you told me was horrible. Now, I'm getting the feeling that folks where you're from don't have the same feelings on friendship as we do."

Joson's smiling face as he pushed the button that betrayed them all even after all the missions he commanded them on shot through Bren's head. "No," he replied. "I guess we don't."

"Well, we're different around these parts, y'see? And that's why if you ever get homesick, or lonely, or you just need someone to talk to…well…you know where to find me, y'hear?" Bren smiled a warm smile of appreciation.

"Thanks, Applejack. That means a lot. Really."

Applejack moved her head closer to Bren's and nuzzled it. "I'mma let y'all sleep. G'night, Bren." Bren waved as the pony headed back upstairs. He decided to take her alluded advice and get some rest. He was having trouble keeping his eyes open anyway. Not even bothering to remove his boots or even get under the blankets, he collapsed unceremoniously on the bedspread and shut his eyes. A minute or so later, as his consciousness was on the verge of slipping off into sleep, he felt a presence in front of his face which caused his eyes to shoot open. Rainbow Dash lay next to him, still with the look of sadness he had seen on her face on top of the hill.

"Look, Bren, I can't begin to understand what you're going through. I never had that many friends growing up…until I met all the others. I couldn't stand to lose any of them. For you to lose all of your friends…that's something I can't even begin to understand. I think that…" Bren widened his eyes, urging her on. "…maybe fillies like me and…uh…colts like you should stick together." Bren smiled at the terminology used on him.

"Heh…yeah, maybe you're right. At any rate, this 'colt' needs his sleep. Enjoy the rest of the slumber party." Rainbow Dash walked back up the stairs as Bren watched her. She paused at the top of the stairs and gave him one last look. Bren smiled. He rolled over to face the opposite wall and drifted off to sleep at last.


	5. Chapter 5

Relocation Factor

Chapter Five: Throwbacks

He was chasing someone. The dank alley that surrounded Bren seemed to pulsate as though it had a life of its own. Rain poured down, blanketing the city and making the streets glisten as though they were coated with oil. The man ran, fast enough to keep out of Bren's reach but not fast enough for Bren to lose sight of him completely. The man's faded, dirty red windbreaker was like a beacon that was just out of reach.

The fleeing man made a mistake. He turned at a fork in the alley, to see that his choice led to a dead end. Ever persistent he turned, with violence in his gait and sex in his eyes. He sprinted for the other alley, but this half second was all Bren needed to close the distance and leap in with a mighty tackle. The man in the jacket landed on his back, and Bren scrambled upwards until he was sitting on the man's chest, keeping him pinned down with his weight. He looked the man in the eyes.

The man smiled. He smiled in defiance. He smiled to tell Bren that although he may have been caught, this wasn't over. Bren had still lost. Bren lost control. Balling up his hand, he rammed his fist into the man's beaming face. Blood ran from his damaged nose, staining his teeth an inky, grenadine red. He continued to smile. Bren struck him again, harder this time.

And that's when Bren's whole damned world came crumbling down. The brick walls of the alley shattered and fell apart under their own weight. Steel fire escapes from the buildings above were ripped from their supports and came crashing to the ground. And amidst all of the chaos, the man's gleaming, red-stained smile still taunted Bren as everything he once knew and believed in dissolved into rubble and shrapnel.

Bren's eyes opened to reality; whatever reality he had been in for the last couple days, anyway. Why was he dreaming of that now? That was years ago. Years upon years ago. He had left all of that behind now. That life was gone. He had ran away. And now he was here. Even further from all of that. Still, now that he had been reminded of that even after all those years, it still haunted him. He had ran so far away. But it seemed as though nightmares have a way of tracking you down. His pondering was cut short when Pinkie Pie shot her head through an open window.

"Bren! Thank Celestia you're awake! Come quick!" she shouted urgently before disappearing back outside. Bren had been in this type of scenario before: a stand-to. Fortunately, he had slept with his clothes and boots on. Rolling out of bed, he hastily donned his armour and chest rig, not bothering to do up the straps or buckles on either. Slapping his helmet on his head so it lolled about casually and grabbing his rifle by the slip ring, he sprinted to the door which he opened with a mighty kick and hauled himself outside, dropping to a knee and bringing the rifle up to his shoulder, ready for a fight.

"SURPRISE!" a thousand voices yelled. Bren looked up in shock to see what must have been damned near all of Ponyville outside. Banners and ribbons joined the surprisingly modern-looking houses together, and balloons were taped to the various market stands pockmarking the cobblestone streets. "WELCOME BREN" and various other forms of the same phrase screamed at him from the banners. Lowering the rifle slowly and confusedly, he made eye contact with each pair of eyes looking at him in the nearest row. His gaze was interrupted by Pinkie Pie vaulting into the air mere inches from his face.

"Morning, Bren! I was sitting around last night after I was finished at Mr. and Mrs. Cake's shop, when I realised that I still haven't thrown you a welcome party! So I rounded up almost every pony in Ponyville! We have cake and pie and cupcakes and punch and pudding…" Bren tuned her out as she trailed on about the various snack foods she had prepared. He didn't like crowds. He got nervous around them. Too many eyes. Too many bodies. Impossible to watch all of them at once. He had dealt with large crowds before. In special forces, back when he was still just an average troop and…before all of this. It still hadn't gotten any easier, no matter how many times he had done it or how much training he received.

Still, these folks seemed the furthest thing from hostile, and maybe he was just being the archetypal cranky army guy over this whole thing. If there was one flaw he had, it was that at times he just needed to learn to relax. "Well, um, thanks Pinkie, and to all of you…um, folks for coming out." Bren dipped back inside and dropped his kit, opting instead to simply bring his drop leg and sidearm. Returning back outside, he saw that now an older, bespectacled pony had taken up position on a stage in the center of town. She locked eyes with him and smiled broadly.

"Fillies and gentlecolts, as Mayor of Ponyville, I would wholeheartedly like to welcome…" she paused to read from a slip of paper. "…Bren MacMillan to our humble town." She paused again to allow the crowd to bang their hooves on the ground in applause. "Bren, would you please do me the honour of joining me on the stage?" Bren looked around nervously, but before he could make a move, the crowd was already encouragingly shoving him towards the stage. This was exactly why he hated crowds. Another thing he hated was being singled out, even if it was for a good purpose like this. Hell, he never even had birthday parties anymore. He was always a gray man, existing only as a background character rather than the star of the show, so to speak. Might be a little harder in this place, however. The crowd finally forced him, grumpily, towards the front, where he climbed onto the stage and gave the crowd a nervous smile and wave.

"Now I'm sure we're all well aware that Bren is a stranger here," the Mayor said as Bren groaned and massaged his forehead with his fingertips. "So we should all do everything we can to make sure our new friend and NAYbour feels right at home." Bren had no idea she actually said the horse onomatopoeia of nay instead of neigh, but the idea amused him so he ran with it. The ponies all stamped their hooves on the ground in applause, which Bren now realised was quite unsettling. To him it appeared as if they were preparing to charge. The Mayor prattled on about friendship and making him feel welcome as Bren zoned out, anxiously searching the crowd for the most space through which he could manoeuvre through. Eventually he heard what sounded like the Mayor wrapping up, and after another round of unsettling hoof stomping, he gave a nod and jumped off the stage and moved toward the snack table. Hell with this nonsense, it was time for some God damned cake.

Slinking his way through the crowd, he made his way over to the table stacked with refreshments, all of which were presented and decorated magnificently. His mouth watered. Apart from a bit of apple crumble he had nibbled on the night before, he hadn't eaten since before his arrival. He only had a few bites of the pastry too; after that, he wound up telling them the story of how he got here, and then had to retire to try and calm his thoughts. Greedily wolfing down several cupcakes and muttering half-incomprehensible responses to the locals' welcomes through his icing-filled mouth, Bren took a big swig of fruit punch and surveyed the scene. They seemed to be leaving him alone with the odd exception; it almost seemed as if the majority were either too nervous to come and talk or too taken aback by his strange appearance. Bren decided to use this to his advantage and make his escape.

Slinking through the back half of the crowd, he managed to sneak his way back to Twilight's house. As he got inside, he saw the small satchel that Rarity had given him with the soaps and towels. Deciding that a shower would be a fantastic idea, Bren remembered seeing a small waterfall and a shallow pond near the mountainous regions beyond Applejack's orchards. Since it didn't appear that any of the houses possessed running water or an indoor plumbing system even, this would be his best bet. He was no stranger to improvisation anyway. Sneaking around the part once more, he walked for a solid fifteen minutes until he found the pond, surrounded by tall grass and reeds. He checked the strength of the waterfall; while it was stronger than your average shower, it wouldn't cause him any injury to dunk his head under it. Doing a final scan to make sure he was alone, he stripped out of his combats and hopped into the clear pond, Rarity's soap in hand.

Stepping into the pleasantly warm water was refreshing. The water level came up to an inch or two below his hips, but the tall grass and foliage concealed him nicely. The tattoo on his right shoulder, the crest of his pre-JTF-2 unit, displayed proudly albeit slightly faded for the world to see. Stepping under the waterfall and letting the water splash over his dark brown hair seemed to revitalise him. As he lathered his body in the soap, he was amazed at his quality. Product like this probably would have sold for almost 40 dollars a bar back home. After he cleaned himself, he stood back under the flowing water and just let himself be immersed. He still had a lot of thinking to do, and this dream he just had didn't do much in the way of shortening his list. Forgetting your past isn't as easy as he had thought it to be, apparently…

"Hey, Bren! What's up?" said a voice appearing out of nowhere. Bren gave a yelp and dived into the shallow water, surfacing only up to just below his shoulders to conceal himself. Rainbow Dash poked her head out from behind the tall grass and giggled.

"Jesus Christ, Rainbow Dash! I'm trying to take a damned shower here!" growled Bren, still crouching to conceal himself in the water.

"Well _sorry,_" Rainbow Dash replied, sarcastically stretching out the last syllable of the word. "I thought I'd try and find you to let you know that you're missing your own party." She giggled again, noticing the tattoo on his arm. "Sweet cutie mark, by the way."

"Parties aren't really my bag," said Bren, now sitting up out of the water a little more. "And what's a cutie mark?"

"That mark on your right side there," Rainbow Dash said, pointing with a hoof. "Here, like these." She stepped further out from behind the grass and showcased a mark on her side above her hind leg. The mark looked like a thundercloud with a rainbow-patterned lightning strike shooting out of it. "We get our cutie marks when we learn something unique about ourselves that nopony else has."

Bren blinked twice. "Right. Well, we, uh, don't get those. This is called a tattoo. You kind of have to do it yourself. I'd love to stay and chat about tattoos, but I am sort of NAKED AS FUCK at the moment. A little privacy, please?"

Rainbow Dash looked frustrated. "Whatever. Catch you later." She lifted herself of the ground and slowly hovered away. Bren took this as a hint that his bathing was taking too long. Making sure no one else was looking, he hopped out of the pond, towelled himself off and got dressed. It felt good to be clean. Almost, to abuse a cliché, like a new man. Slinging the towel and satchel over his shoulder, he set off back towards Twilight's house. He passed Applejack's orchards, still marvelling at their near-untouched appearance despite the many workers actively harvesting them. He checked his watch. If time here was anything like time in Afghanistan, which it appeared to be so far, then the sun should be setting soon. It was approaching winter when he left, and fewer minutes of sunlight were lingering each day.

He walked more leisurely this time, taking more time to observe the sights of this place he had been stranded in. It was staggering: pure untapped nature. With the exception of the houses in Ponyville, it was as if no one had touched anything on the lush green fields and hills. Even the houses seemed to leave no footprint; their modern appearance was about all they shared with houses where Bren was from. With no power, plumbing, or anything of the sort, they were houses only in the sense that they were a shelter from the elements. This entire village was quite…peaceful.

As the time approached six PM, the sun began its closeout routine and bathed the sky in a grenadine-red. The same inky, thick type of red that seeped into the fleeing man's teeth in his dream. The party earlier thrown for him had winded down, with ponies passed out all through the streets. It didn't appear to be alcohol based; to Bren it appeared to be a combination of a massive sugar crash and a food coma. He stopped a few feet away from the door to Twilight's library and instead turned around and walked back toward the farm. Another slow 20 minute walk ensued, and by the time Bren had reached his destination-the rocky hill where he tried to contact home-the sun was only barely peaking out from behind the hills and trees on the horizon. Pulling out the small LED headlamp he always kept in his pocket and securing it to his forehead, Bren activated the light and used it to illuminate his climb up the hill. As an hour passed and the sun finally faded from view, he had made it to the top of the hill in time to enjoy total starlight darkness. He killed the light and sat down on the flat patch of grass he sat a day ago with his radio and GPS.

The moon was out in full again. Studying it in closer detail this time, he saw that the craters and dark seas formed the shape of what looked to be a unicorn. Although it was definitely strange and alien, it was far from the most peculiar thing he'd laid eyes on in the last few days. The weather was notably chilly; Bren figured it must be approaching autumn or winter here as well. He began to speculate on what had been bothering him since he awoke: the dream. He hadn't thought of it in years. That event had caused everything in his life to change. If that had never happened, would he be where he was now, stranded in the strange land of Equestria? Bren figured he was over-thinking things way too much. But still, why now? All of the years before, that memory had been stuffed onto the back burner. Everything else in Bren's busy life had distracted him from thinking of it, perhaps by Bren's own doing. But now that he was stranded here, with even more problems and distractions to apply his mind to, why did it suddenly come up? He needed to talk to somebody. But who, and far more importantly, how?

His train of thought was interrupted again by the soft swooping of wings as Rainbow Dash landed next to him. Not even flinching, he remained focused on the night sky. "Hey, Rainbow Dash," he said softly.

"Hey Bren, I had a feeling you'd be on top of this hill. What are you doing up here all by yourself?"

"Just…thinking. Thinking about…" Bren trailed off. Could he speak what was on his mind to Rainbow Dash? No, of course not. He had barely managed to dumb down the story of how he got here, and that was relatively simple: his dickhead boss hired some people to shoot all of his friends and pressed a button on a magic box to send him here. What was bothering him had way more depth, less clear cut facts, far more grey areas. "I'm thinking about home." Bren said.

"You know, you never told me much about your home," probed Rainbow Dash, sitting closer to him. "What's it like where you're from?"

Bren thought about his answer for a second. "I live in a town called Petawawa, in the country of Canada. I, uh, really don't know what to tell you. We live in houses that are a lot like the ones you have here, except more complex. We have pipes that bring hot and cold water right into our homes, as well as power for things like lights and stuff." He stopped. "Nobody can fly. Not on their own, anyway. For that they use special machines called airplanes or helicopters." He decided to stop talking about the facts and more about what it was to him. "Where I live, on the base, there's this little gravel trail that runs around the base and through the woods. I run that every day. Not so much for the exercise, but just for the scenery. And the smell." Rainbow Dash was looking at him wide eyed. "We're pretty far away from the big cities, so the air just smells really clean. If you manage to get high up above the valley, it's almost got a sweet smell to it. And in the forests, it smells amazing, like diving into wet leaves." He decided not to tell her about growing up in Vancouver. Vancouver was gone now.

"Sounds…like a nice place." Rainbow Dash clearly was just trying to be polite due to a lack of words to say. Bren just nodded. "Do…do you think you'll figure out a way to get home?" She almost sounded apprehensive.

Bren tightened his grip in his forearm. "I don't know. But I do know that I have to. I can't stop trying. I won't stop trying." Rainbow Dash just looked at him for a second, then brought her head close to his and nuzzled his cheek before resting her head in his lap. Bren smiled. She was like a pet. It was like the talking dog that every 9 year old boy wants had finally been given to him years later. Bren just smiled and, not knowing anything better to do, scratched behind the blue pony's ears as he stared up at the alien moon winking down at


	6. Chapter 6

Relocation Factor

Chapter Six: True Colours

Bren's eyes shot open, revealing only starry skies above him. A pain had appeared in his back, becoming nearly unbearable, and a weight was burdening his leg. Almost instinctively, he checked his watch: 11:19. He sat up, and the pain in his back immediately disappeared. Turning his head around, he saw that he had been lying on a particularly large and solid looking rock. He glanced down at his lap to see that Rainbow Dash was happily asleep, her stomach slowly expanding and sinking in rhythm with her breath. Realising he must have fallen asleep for a few hours, Bren decided to stealthily make his way back to Twilight Sparkle's house and get himself into a proper bed.

He slowly squeezed his leg from underneath Rainbow Dash's head, before reactivating his headlight and making the trek-now about an hour long due to the darkness-down from the top of the hill. Finally reaching the bottom, he clicked of the headlamp and stuffed it back into his pocket as he began to walk through the orchards towards Twilight's house. Hearing the sound of hooves, he turned his head to see Applejack walking wearily between the trees.

"Evening, Applejack," Bren said softly, not wanting to wake anyone up, if there had been anyone sleeping nearby he didn't see. "Long day?"

"You couldn't reckon the half of it, Bren. Seems that no matter how fast we work, there's just not enough hours in the day to get these apples down." The pony sighed a sigh of exhaustion. "What about you? What're you doing out in these parts this late at night?"

"I climbed that hill again to do a bit of stargazing, and then I got to talking with Rainbow Dash about where I'm from." Bren scratched the back of his head, a nervous tic he had to keep from getting to depressed thinking of his home. "I must've fallen asleep for an hour or two. I'm going to head back to Twilight's place and get some proper rack time. I'll catch you later." He was about to move on, but the orange pony refused to budge.

"Well, that's a bit of a gallop away from here. Now, I wouldn't be much of a friend if I didn't offer you a place to stay tonight, would I?" That warm, friendly voice bounced its southern lilt around Bren's ears as he smiled an equally warm smile.

"Heh, I guess not. Much appreciated, Applejack." The pony just smiled and led Bren toward a rustic looking farmhouse, like the type he used to see on long drives up through B.C.'s farmlands years ago. Applejack opened the door with a soft creak and led him up a flight of stairs to a near-empty room, where she laid out some sheets and blankets with a few pillows.

"Granny Smith and Big MacIntosh are asleep just down the hall, so y'all best not be a loud snorer." The pony giggled. "Good night, sugar cube." Applejack gave him one last look and warm smile before shutting the door and trotting off to her own bed. Bren smiled to himself. She reminded him of someone. Damned if he could guess who. Either way, with his new bed illuminated from the moonlight streaming through the circular window, Bren decided to get some rest. This time taking the care to remove his drop leg holster-the straps were starting to get annoying on his leg anyway-he laid atop the pile of sheets Applejack had done up for him. While cold air was starting to seep into the room, the blankets still looked incredibly warm, and he didn't want to overheat. Remembering his encounter with Rainbow Dash during his shower at the waterfall, he decided that stripping down before sleeping was a bad idea. He opted instead to just keep his clothes on and lie atop the soft down quilt; he had braved through colder nights. Crossing his legs and arms, he shut his eyes and drifted off to sleep again.

xxxxx

Budapest was tall and handsome. Budapest wasn't his real name though. His real name was Markus Bastiovanski. Everyone just called him Budapest because it was a fairly easy to pronounce nondescript Eastern European city, and far easier than trying to fight your way through pronouncing his last name. Hailing from Moldova, rather than Hungary, Budapest came to Canada at a very young age and enlisted in the Canadian Army, trying out for Special Forces a few years later. He failed selection when he injured his knee the first time, but two years later he attempted it again and passed.

Then a bullet shot through the center of Budapest's forehead, sending him to the ground before his face could even contort to register pain.

Burns was a shorter man built like a refrigerator. A football and rugby player for most of his life, his immense strength and stable build made him the team's pack mule, often stuck carrying any heavy kit no one else felt like taking, such as radios, machine guns or extra ammunition or parts. His nickname originated from an unfortunate explosives incident during a training exercise that left him without eyebrows for a few weeks. A self-styled ladies' man, he could often be found shamelessly flirting with any woman that got within eyesight. Rarely successful, his cheerful disposition even after rejection exemplified the determination that he carried with him.

Two bullets ripped underneath the hard plate of Burns' armour, his face grimacing in agony as he fell face first onto the dusty rocks.

Bren saw everyone, from Budapest and Burns to Craig get killed before his eyes. The entire sky was a grenadine red again, slowly darkening to deep crimson. He screamed their names but their bodies lay motionless. Rage built inside him again. The same rage he had used in that alley years ago. He reached for his weapons but had nothing; just the clothes on his back. He turned around to see Joson standing behind him, smiling like a serpent. It was Bren's chance. Before he could react, the colonel reared his arm back and punched Bren in the side of the head. But Bren felt almost nothing; the punch felt like only a small prod. The colonel threw a kick, this one hitting Bren in the leg, but this too held no weight. Bren had become invincible; truly unable to be stopped in his quest to set things right. He lunged at the colonel, still frantically punching and kicking in defence, when his vision became blurry. Bren shut his eyes tightly and then reopened them.

Joson had somehow circled behind him, as he could feel his ineffectual prodding coming from behind. Eyes still not yet fully focused, he felt Joson's presence directly at his back. His hand unsheathed his boot knife, a two inch blade with a ring at the hilt designed to slip a finger through and use in a punching fashion. The blade was small, but enough to punch a human throat or muscle group. Spinning around, he blindly reached out with his other arm, felt it wrap around something, and used all of the strength he had to wrestle it to the ground with a mighty battle cry. Scrambling atop it, he reared his knife hand back, ready to strike.

It was then that Bren's eyes focused and he saw who his target really was. Applejack was on the ground, her neck in his hand, her eyes filled with fear and her mouth clenched tight, bracing for a strike. Suddenly all of the strength seeped from Bren's limbs. His rage-filled eyes opened wide in disbelief and his snarling, foaming mouth dropped open as wide as his jaw would permit and began to quiver. His hands went limp and the knife slid off of his finger and landed on the ground with a clank. Bren drunkenly staggered to his feet and stepped away from the frightened pony, whose piercing eyes continued to stare at him with unrestrained fear. As he stepped back, his own face contorting sheer disgust, regret, and sorrow of his own actions, Applejack's eyes changed from terror to concern. "Applejack…I…" before the orange pony could say a word, Bren took off.

He sprinted through the house and outside into the apple orchards. He swore he heard Applejack call his name, but even if he did he ignored it. He had to protect her from himself. Once he was satisfied that he was far enough away-he was somewhere in the hills now-he dropped to one knee and vomited. He was disgusted with himself. He knew he had finally lost a battle that he had been fighting since nearly day one: PTSD, known formally as post-traumatic stress disorder. From the first day he set foot in Afghanistan as a buck private with Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry, seeing men torn apart and gunfire whiz over his head, to his subsequent tours, all of the horrible things he'd seen in his time with special forces, everything that happened…before, to the recent incident with Joson. That had been it…the final push off the edge of the cliff. He had finally snapped, but without a wife or children to snap on and strike, or a bottle to bury himself in, he snapped on poor Applejack when she disturbed him at the wrong time.

"Oh dear…hi Bren! Are you not feeling well?" The soft voice of Fluttershy tickled Bren's ears. The soft tone did little to soothe Bren's racing mind.

"Stay the fuck back, Fluttershy," said Bren, echoing the words he first said to her when they met. "I don't want to hurt you too." His gaze was still fixated on the ground…and it had rapidly become the thousand yard stare of a weary soldier.

"Bren? I already know you don't want to hurt me. I thought we finally cleared all that up at Twilight's slumber party." She placed a hoof on his shoulder. "Bren, what's wrong?"

Bren spat in a vain attempt to remove the taste of bile from his mouth. "Applejack…I was having a dream about Joson. She started jabbing me before I was really awake and I…snapped. I thought she was the enemy." He spat another gob of saliva onto the grassy ground. "I almost killed her. If I hadn't stopped myself when I did I might have…" he stopped himself immediately, as he felt his voice beginning to crack with emotion. "I'm so fucked up." He let his head sag, defeated, to his chest. Feeling another tap on his shoulder, he turned around to see Fluttershy's large eyes piercing his.

"Bren, maybe you should go and talk with someone. Twilight Sparkle is very knowledgeable about a lot of things, and she has a big library with lots of books. Maybe she can help you with what's going on?"

"No Fluttershy…I…I think I should stay away from people, er, ponies. I…I doubt she can help me anyway."

"Bren." He looked her in the eyes again. This time her gaze was much sterner, as though she was tearing through Bren's mind with her very line of sight. "You really need to go and talk with Twilight Sparkle."

Bren stood up and began walking to Twilight Sparkle's house, Fluttershy close behind him. He still wasn't sure how she did that; that stare was something of legend. She could pull of an Army face better than half of the instructors he'd had over his career. One look and he didn't want to argue. Hell, if he ever found a way out of this place, the Canadian Forces would probably be happy to give her a job when they saw the staredown she could administer. He walked with Fluttershy tight on his heels until he reached the tree that Twilight Sparkle lived in. He knocked on the door, which soon swung open by itself thanks to Twilight's use of magic. As he stepped into the library, Bren saw that Twilight was milling over an old leather-bound book. She initially looked pleased to see him, but her expression rapidly changed to concern when she saw the dishevelled and stressed look on Bren's weary face.

"Bren, you look awful. What in the name of Celestia happened to you?"

Bren couldn't make eye contact; he merely stared at the floor. However, an assertive nudge from Fluttershy drove him to speak. "I…I almost really hurt Applejack. Real bad. I was having a nightmare about Joson," Bren said as he saw the purple pony's face sink as she recalled the hate and bloodlust associated with the name. "Applejack was prodding me, trying to wake me up and I…I thought she was Joson. I snapped, I was confused. If I hadn't stopped myself when I did…" he paused to choose his words, and decided not to euphemize the truth. "If I hadn't stopped when I did I would have killed her." There was a cold silence in the room as Twilight Sparkle, and now Fluttershy, who now more clearly understood the situation, looked on flabbergasted. Bren simply stared straight ahead, unblinking. A convicted man, admitting to his guilt, telling his story to a judge. "And better yet, I know why I did it."

Twilight Sparkle, ever the more courageous than her companion, spoke first. "Bren…why would you…"

The soldier cut her off before she could finish. "PTSD, that's why. Post fucking traumatic fucking stress fucking disorder. Long story short, all the horrible shit I've seen has come to a head, and this last incident with Joson was the straw that broke the camel's back. I guess it was only a matter of time until I snapped on someone, and that time was today and that someone was Applejack." He stopped. The tough, invincible, mentally strong soldier persona began to melt away as the restrained emotion began to break through Bren's voice. "I've always had nightmares, but now they're becoming real. All the shit…the dead friends, the bodies, the brushes with death, I had nightmares of them all. But this time it was real. The bottle's foamed over, the strap broke, and the balloon popped. I've finally gone over the edge." Seeing the mixed horror and confusion on the ponies' faces, Bren's last remaining emotional restraint shattered as he barked out the true meaning of his words in the only way he knew how. "Long story short, I'm fucked up! There, I said it. Cat's out of the bag, you two. Good job, your detective skills have cracked the mighty soldier. I'm fucked up ten ways from fucking Saturday. I have been for a long time, and now it's finally out in the fucking open. I am fucked up." With this, Bren could take no more and dropped to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably. But not sobbing like he sobbed when he looked up at the foreign stars and wept for those he'd left behind. This time he was a crying child, unleashing his emotions to the world because he didn't know any other way to react.

"Bren, I may not know what you're going through, but I know that you definetly need help." Twilight's concern in her voice was unhidden.

"Who's going to fucking help me?" sobbed Bren, still unable to control the wavering of his voice. "All the damned shrinks that maybe could are back home. Do you have a book on psychology in there? If not I think I'm out of bloody luck."

The door creaked open, and Bren's head swivelled around to see a familiar orange pony gingerly lay his drop-leg holster and discarded boot knife on the floor,


	7. Chapter 7

Relocation Factor

Chapter Seven: Echoes

*Author's note: Sorry this one took so long. The holidays and the month before were a really busy time for me. I'm glad to get this chapter out of the way, because now we can start getting to the meat and potatoes of the story. Thanks to all of you for your support and reviews. For a first time author, getting so many nice comments and people bookmarking my story is a real honour. Anyway, enjoy.

Bren stood and immediately turned to face Applejack. She flinched slightly upon seeing him at his full height, but she stood brave nonetheless. Taking care, he slowly stepped forward, retrieved his items and put them back on. He needed to talk. But not here.

"Outside, Applejack," he commanded, softly but with urgency. "Please." The two walked outside, Bren taking care to shut the door behind him. He took a single step to the left of the door and then sank down, placing himself against the tree trunk. "There's nothing to say. Apologies won't be enough. Just say what you have to say to me." He looked down at the ground between his legs, awaiting her harsh response.

"Bren, it's clear to me that something happened to you. Something that I don't understand." Bren buried his head further. "I know that wasn't you today. I know that's not who you are. That's someone else. But all the same…listen to me, sugar cube." Bren brought his head up and looked at her. "Twilight was right. You do need help. Now I know you think there's nopony here that can help you, but you're wrong. We all can. We all want to, and we all will."

Bren attempted to smile. He had no idea what his attempt looked like, but he took solace in the fact that the thought was there. "Thanks. But I doubt you can. It's complex. And it's all on me. No one can help you but yourself."

"I don't believe that, Bren." Applejack retorted.

"Believe it," Bren said slightly more agitated than before. "You haven't seen what I have. Bodies. Some missing parts of themselves. Just everywhere. Wounded men screaming for help. But you can't help them because if you stand up, you'll get hit or you'll step on the same thing they did." He swallowed and thought about his first brush with death years ago. His fire team partner had tripped an improvised explosive, killing him and showering Bren with hot shrapnel. "I remember getting blown up. Just feeling the life draining out of you while the world goes to hell. None of that shit goes away. You keep it with you forever. We all fight our own war against it. Today I lost." He shifted his gaze back to the ground. "I lost hard."

Applejack looked to be in a state of limbo between tears and utter shock. "Where…where do you come from?" This place he was from sounded far worse than anything Nightmare Moon could have possibly unleashed on Equestria.

"Somewhere very far away." Bren replied flatly. Without saying another word he rose and went back inside, saying not a single word to the other ponies staring at him. Grabbing the bag of soaps and towels, he headed back off to his pond and waterfall. This time he just stood under the rushing waters, hoping the force of them would strip all of the hatred, sorrow, anger and regret clean from him. He hoped the water would just strip the flesh right off of his bones and leave him to at least die somewhere peaceful. Alas, the currents of the water weren't enough to end his life or strip any of the terrible feelings from his mind. With The Dream of two nights before and now this, it seemed as though his past had its hands around his neck, and was slowly tightening the grip.

Towelling off and redressing himself, he slumped onto the surprisingly warm grass, adopting the familiar position of cradling his head in his hands. The sound of whooshing wings slowing a descent to the ground barely even warranting his attention shifting. A familiar raspy voice rang out, a few inches from his head by the sound of it.

"Bren, Twilight just told me about what happened. Are…are you okay?" Rainbow Dash asked, clearly at a loss for words.

"You tell me if I fucking look okay," retorted Bren, still staring into the abyss he had created with his arms.  
>The pony let out a huff. "There's no need to be rude. I was just asking if you were okay."<p>

"You're not too good at observation, are you, Dash? I tend not to ask questions I already know the answer to." Again he refused to budge his head from its cradle.

"Look, why don't you just come back with me to Twilight's house and we can all talk about this?"  
>Bren growled in frustration. "I've told the lot of you a dozen fucking times that you can't fix shit like this by talking about your feelings. At best it takes years of therapy to get over. Most of the time it stays with you forever. Worst case…" he gulped. "…You end it. Blow your brains out or jump off something high." He exhaled and lifted his head slightly. "Doesn't sound like too bad an option right now."<p>

Rainbow Dash paused. "But why?" she asked, still not fully understanding. "Why can't you just try to come and talk? What are you so afraid of, for Celestia's sake?"

Bren violently shot his head upright and pointed his finger at her like a pistol, causing her to flinch. "I…" And then his head sank. He had no answer for her. "I don't know what I'm afraid of. Besides, if I were Applejack, I'd be less than comfortable around the guy that came inches away from cutting my neck open."

He felt the familiar gesture of a hoof resting on his shoulder. "That's where you're wrong, Bren. She isn't. She told me before I came to get you that she knows it wasn't you today that attacked her. She told me she wants to help you in any way she can. So please, just come back and talk with us. For me?" She smiled a faint smile.

Bren hesitated, and then stood and dusted himself off. "Lead on," he said flatly. After a few minutes of silent walking, with Bren paying particular interest to the ground and his own boots, they arrived back at Twilight's oak tree home. He opened the door to see that all of the ponies were seated in a circle. Rarity, looking particularly distraught had joined them, and Pinkie Pie's bouncy optimism was notably absent by the stone cold look on her face. Bren unceremoniously walked up to the circle and sat down with a thud.

"Right," he said immediately. "If I have to talk, I'm going to start from the beginning. And I hate being interrupted, savvy?" The ponies nodded in agreement. "Good. Well, where do I begin? I wasn't always a soldier. I was a pretty normal kid, I guess. Mom was a bank manager, dad was a cop." He sensed a slight air of confusion, so he clarified. "Police officer. Kinda like soldiers but they only stay in their country, and rather than fighting enemies they enforce the law." He smiled fondly. "Everyone told me I was a smart kid. I always was a bit of a bookworm. Good at physics, math, chemistry, all the geeky stuff. Of course, parents are always parents. They see me bringing home good report cards and boom, they have their mind set that I'm going to be a doctor, or a lawyer or an architect or something. But I had other plans. I wanted to be a cop. I wanted to be like Dad. When I told them, midway through high school, it was a bit of a shock. Everyone tried to dissuade me, told me about the shit pay, the long hours, the lack of a social life. But I didn't listen. I knew it was just ways of changing my mind. The only one that stood by me was Dad. So I decided on the best of both worlds. I went to college, got myself a general science degree and then made straight for the Vancouver police as soon as the degree was framed on my wall.

"Dad was proud. So damned proud. Everyone else was stuck in that sort of, 'I'm happy because you're happy' and 'Well if it's what you really want then congratulations' phase, but Dad was over the moon. He knew that I'd make a good cop, and he was honoured that out of all the things I chose to do, I picked following in his footsteps. I made it through the academy, and on graduation day, Dad gave me this." He stood and walked over to his chest rig, and pulled the back-up pistol he always carried from the front. An old Colt Police Positive Special, a .38 revolver issued to law enforcement in the 1900s all the way up until the '80s. "It was Dad's old six shooter from when he was walking the beat. Of course, I never used the thing. Still to this day I only fired it at the range. The police gave me a better gun, and the army issued me more than enough. Still, I kept it close because it still felt like Dad was there." He held the gun and chuckled at the memory, before his face turned grim.

"One night I was investigating a case. A rape." Seeing further confusion, this one he refused to clarify. "A horrible crime. Worse than killing. It was a young girl, barely eighteen. I promised her parents I'd bring them justice. Anyway, we go to the suspect's house, and he takes off. My partner calls for backup to secure the scene, and he and I take off after the guy. He loses my partner, but not me. I followed him into this alley. I caught up to him and managed to get him to the ground. I was expecting him to look sad or defeated, but he just smiled. He said 'You still haven't won yet, pig,' and kept grinning at me. I knew what he meant. He knew there wouldn't be enough evidence to stick him, at least not for a long sentence like he deserved. He hires the right lawyer and gets just three years for ruining her life. I'd seen it a hundred times before. Anyway, I just…lost it. I had him there right under me, and I wanted to make him suffer. So I deck him right in the chops, but he keeps smiling. So I hit him again. I smack him a few more times before my partner caught up and yanked me off him. We tossed him in the car and the driver took him away, but he still smiled the whole time. Back at his apartment, there wasn't a whole lot of evidence. Some stuff, but nothing to really stick a case. Then my partner gets an idea.

"He says that if we move some stuff around, and plant some evidence we got at the original scene, that greaseball lawyer of his would have a way harder time. I thought about it. I really wanted to, and I almost did. But up until then, I'd been a clean cop. I'd already put the case in jeopardy by roughing him up, and I didn't want to risk getting fingered on this as well. A few weeks later at the trial, the lawyer pulls the excessive force card on me, and sure enough, there wasn't enough at the apartment to pin him. He got off with a minor assault charge and 12 months of probation. The sheriff took him out back, and he hit me with that grin again. I knew that if I had just listened to my partner…we could have nailed him. That girl's parents were at the trial. I couldn't bear to speak to them. I broke my promise. I failed." Bren hung his head. "Things went downhill after that. I only got a minor disciplinary warning. No one at the department was angry at me. Neither was the public. Hell, they told me I should have hit him harder. My folks weren't angry. Dad certainly wasn't angry. But I knew I had failed. I wanted to go somewhere else. Somewhere where there wasn't so much God damned grey. By chance, on my way home one evening, I had to take a detour and passed the army recruitment centre. I thought that would be a prime place to escape to. The next morning I filled out the paperwork and spent the next five months doing the tests. When I got accepted and got my basic training dates, I handed in my notice to leave for the cops. This time, nobody said they were happy that I was doing what I wanted. Dad just said, 'Good luck.'

"I did my training with the army. All the while, Dad's health started to go downhill. A few months later I got called to Afghanistan. A few months into the tour, I get a letter from Mom, saying that he's dying. I try to get leave, but they tell me that we're relieving a group in some backwater forward operating base for a few months. I tell Mom I can't come, and that I'll be on the first plane over once we get relieved and I can get my deployment leave. Sure enough, the time comes and I get home. Then I find out: Dad has been dead for three weeks. Mom blames me. She blames everything on me. It wasn't my fault, and I think now that deep down she knew that. But she needed something or someone to blame."

Rarity broke the silence with a melodramatic-sounding sob. Quivering with emotion, she struggled to spit out a sentence. "Bren…that's…that's the saddest story I've ever heard! Oh, you poor thing!" She flung herself onto him in a sloppy hug. Before falling on her back and sobbing some more. Fluttershy's voice broke through the crying.

"Bren. What happened to your father isn't your fault."

"She's right, sugar cube. There's nothing you could have done." Applejack said.

"So then what happened?" Asked Rainbow Dash.

"Well, from there I went back to Afghan, went home, and kept in touch with my mother through Christmas and birthday cards. But then those stopped. Then I went back to Afghan again. Got blown up. Healed. Tried out for special forces. Got in. Started working for Joson, and, well, you all know the story from there." He took a deep breath. "Sometimes I think that if I hadn't roughed that guy up, or if I'd taken the advice and planted evidence at his home, none of this would have happened. I'm sure Joson probably would have sent some saps off to find his magic box, and one would get stuck here, or get killed, or whatever. But it wouldn't have been me. And I'd never see all those horrible things. And I wouldn't have had to go through the pain of getting injured. And maybe Dad would have lived a few years more, or at least I'd have been there to say goodbye. And we'd all still be a happy family. Hell, I'd probably be pretty high up in the police by now. Maybe have settled down, with a wife, kids, who knows? Things could have been a lot different." He finally stopped and took a deep breath. He noticed Rarity had stopped sobbing, at least not as loudly. His train of thought was interrupted by Twilight, whom he saw had a large book in front of her.

"Bren, I think I know just how to help." Her horn glowed again and the book shut.

Bren was confused, and a little pissed off. "I'm sorry, you still haven't clarified exactly how you're going to help me. I spend the last ten minutes pouring out my life story, and I still feel like shit, no better than when I started. What can you possibly do to help me?"

Twilight grinned. "Oh, we can't help you. But we know just the pony who can. If you can call her that. We're taking a trip into the Everfree Forest!"

xxxxx

Bren trudged through the dense woods of the forest, closely following Twilight and the rest of the ponies. His rifle was at the low ready; when he saw the forest and heard of what sort of creatures dwelled within, he insisted on going armed. He pushed into the forest with them after grabbing his rifle and a spare magazine, leaving the rest of his kit for time's sake. He scanned the darkness of the woods, his eyes just above his EOTech sight, observing the blackness and jumping at every movement. In spite of the day's events, Fluttershy remained glued to his side, seemingly more terrified of the forest than he was. When he told her to get behind him to reassure her, she was all too glad.

Finally, they reached their destination: an oddly shaped hut deep in the bowels of the forest. Bren scanned around the house with his weapon to verify it was safe. Twilight rapped on the door, which was soon answered by a zebra with bright earrings on her ear.

"Twilight Sparkle! And her friends, I see! Tell me, what brings you here to me?" Bren recognized the accent. Definitely African. Likely Swahili.

"It's good to see you too, Zecora. This is our friend Bren MacMillan. He has a problem we think you can help with."

"Pleased to meet you, Mister Bren. A companion of these ponies shall also be my friend."

"Good to meet you too, Zecora."

"I have never before seen the species of this male. Tell me Bren, from where do you hail?"

"I'm from a place called Earth, the country of Canada," he answered nervously. He felt cheesy; it sounded like the dialogue from a bad '60s sci fi flick.

"I am not familiar with this word, and of this country I have not heard. But come inside, my new friend. I shall see if I can make your troubles end." The group entered the hut, and Twilight pulled Zecora to the side, discussing what was wrong. Bren slung his rifle and took in his surroundings. It reminded him of when he visited Bratislava with Budapest. It was like a gypsy hut. Strange cauldrons and plant life adorned the walls, and strange charms were strewn about. He heard the clop of hooves as the zebra approached him.

"Twilight has told me of your tales, and I think I can cure you of your ails." Bren nodded along, advancing through the strange rap she seemed to speak in. "Your problem is your troubled past. I will help you move past it at last. A potion, I shall create to help you atone for your troubled fate." She moved towards a large cauldron. Grabbing bizarre items and dropping them in, she outlined the alien recipe for Bren. "A pinch of Coldleaf I will add, to combat your memories so sad. A teaspoon of rock lizard heart, to soothe the conflict tearing you apart. A dash of yellow brandiwine, to give you a peace most divine. A scraping from enchanted rock, to keep your tendencies in stock. The next ingredients must come from thee. Are you prepared to give them to me?"

Bren scratched the back of his head. "Uh, sure. Go to town."

Zecora nodded and slinked behind him. "We will need a dash of blood from behind your mane, to show the potion who must be tamed." He felt a sharp sensation drag behind his ear, as Zecora came back into his field of vision, holding a pin with a drop of his blood on it, which promptly fell into the concoction. "And lastly we need something only you can give. Something you have used as long as you have lived. I need you to shirk something from your bizarre line of work. Something you have depended on, to keep you safe and strong. Something unbeknownst to us, but to keep you alive, use it you must."

Bren thought for a second. This would have been a lot easier if she didn't speak in battle rap riddles. He shifted his body, bringing his arm to his chin to think. The sway of his body caused his rifle to slam against his back. Then it hit him. "I've got it!" said Bren. He grabbed the charging handle on his rifle and racked it to the rear. A round ejected from the chamber, and Bren bent over to retrieve it. Unscrewing the bullet from the shell casing, he took a gulp and dumped the powder into the concoction, causing a small cloud of smoke to erupt. He peered into the cauldron, and rubbed his eyes in disbelief. In the murky water he could see shapes. Moving. And they almost looked like…his past. He could see Budapest get shot. Craig thrown against the wall. Dad withering away in his bed. The shrapnel from the IED ripping into him.

Zecora came over and poured the cauldron into what looked like a steel thermos, sealing it and handing it to Twilight. "Give him this and let him rest. Soon his condition will be at best." She turned to face Bren. "This will make your nightmares fade, but first through their waters you must wade. They shall be cast into the fray, but first they must be burned away. After Bren, no ill shall remain. But be warned, it shall cause you great pain."

Bren grinned. "That's fine. Pain and me are old buddies."

Twilight ushered him out of the house as he nonchalantly waved goodbye to the zebra. "I think this might help you. Zecora can fix near anything."

"I hope so, Twi." The ponies all stood in silence before heading back towards Ponyville. "Let's go," said Twilight. Bren was in no position to argue. He trudged back through the forest, a familiarly terrified Fluttershy at his side, until they reached the oak tree. Bren, not knowing what to think anymore, went inside and awaited the pony's directions. "Bren, Zecora wanted me to check and make sure you're ready for this."

"I'll be as ready as I'll ever be," said Bren.

"Well, I hope for everypony's sake that you're right. It says that you have to lie somewhere comfortable, drink it, and it will do the rest." Bren walked across the room, popped the magazine from his rifle, ejected the round in the chamber and reloaded it into the mag. He didn't want to accidentally grip the trigger and discharge during his throes of supposed pain. He removed his leg rig and laid it next to the rifle. Sighing and mentally preparing himself for whatever came next, he removed his boots, his kneepad and emptied his pockets, placing their contents on the table. A tin of chewing tobacco, his beret, the headlamp, and an assortment of pens and notepads were laid in a neat pile. With the ponies watching, he removed his tunic and laid down on the bed they made for him. Grabbing the thermos from Twilight, he unscrewed the cap and sniffed the concoction, nearly passing out in the process. It smelled like someone dumped a dead body in castor oil. Squeezing his eyes shut and pinching his nose, he downed the liquid in a few hearty gulps.

Bren nearly vomited. It was horrible. It tasted twice as bad as it smelled. Bren hacked and gagged at the awful taste. And then something happened. Bren suddenly felt drowsy. He felt his head hit the pillow and everything went dark as the six watching ponies faded from his field of vision. Again he was alone, safe for the sound of his own breathing. Then he saw colours begin to form. Simple ones, at first. Blue. Green. Red. They soon formed into more complex hues. Then they started to take shape. A man in a crisp blue uniform was talking to two others, a man and a woman. Then Bren recognized it. It was himself, years ago. He was talking to the rape victim's parents. The figures zoomed up to Bren's field of vision, where if they were any close Bren probably could have tasted them. They looked into the young Bren's eyes. And said nothing. They didn't need to. Their eyes said it all.

"Bring justice for our daughter," said the eyes of the father.

"I promise I will," said the eyes of young Bren. As the uniformed officer silently walked away, Bren screamed at the top of his lungs at the apparitions before him, as a burning pain seemed to crawl through every nerve in his body.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" he screamed in both emotion and agony. But the man and the woman just silently watched as the uniformed officer left. It burned. It burned and Bren wanted to tear up. But then their forms disappeared, wafting away like smoke. Something else started to form. This time it was a bleak landscape, marred with ancient buildings and a beige mountain range in the unreachable distance. Heat suddenly smothered Bren, as more shapes began to form. As a sudden weight burdened his frame, more men appeared in front of him, and he realised where he was: Afghanistan. He recognized the destroyed building to his left and realised it was his second tour. His eyes focused on the man in front of him, and he read the name written in Sharpie on the drag handle of his chest rig: CALDWELL. "No," he said. "Not this. Not again. Please, no." Caldwell looked back at Bren to ensure he and the rest of the patrol was still behind him. Stumbling slightly due to the uneven terrain, he stepped wide to regain his balance. A click resonated quietly, yet loud enough for every man in the patrol to hear. "Caldwell! Jamie! No!" screamed Bren at the top of his lungs.

And then fire. Caldwell was engulfed in a massive fireball. Hot shrapnel flew from the explosion, pelting Bren all across his body. The scars left by them from all those years ago seared white hot now. Every one of them. Bren was lying on his back while the patrol medic ran forward and began to tend to him. He croaked out a single word.

"Jamie," the medic just looked at the ground and continued working. And Bren wept again. The tears this time were what burned, leaving sizzling patches of flesh all down the sides of his face. This image began to fade too. Soon another one came to replace it. This one was a rifle. Held in Bren's own hands. He saw another person to his right and glanced at it. It was Craig. The smell of sterile air dried his nostrils. He looked to the front. And there stood Joson. He looked demonic this time, with cat-like eyes and a wavy form, as though it was distorted by heat waves from the fires of Hell itself. Then came that smile. That sinister, Cheshire cat smile. It stretched unnaturally from one end of his devil-like face to the other. Each tooth taunted Bren as Joson's arm reached down and pressed the button, activating STARLIGHT. The high pitched whine from the device burned Bren's ears. "You fucker! You fucking traitor! I'll gut you like a fucking pig, you hear me? I'll rip you limb from limb! You fucking liar! We trusted you! We fucking trusted you!" The whine reached it's climax, sending out a force that shot Bren into the wall. He looked over to see Craig fly against the wall across from him and slam into it hard, causing his neck to jerk violently and his head to smash against the wall with dangerous force. "Craig!" He screamed. And then everything went white.

"Stop it! Stop it all! I want to stop! I don't want to do this anymore! Make it go away! Anyone, please! Zecora! Twilight! Make it go away!" Then out of the featureless white came another shape. Again, the smell of sterile air. Bren didn't immediately recognize this place. A bed sat in the centre of the room. Then Bren knew what this place was. "Please, no. Not this. Please." He hadn't been here before, but he knew what it was all too well. An old man lay in the bed, tubes and machines connected to him. "Dad." Next to him were four seats. His mother was in the first. His uncle in the second. His wife, Bren's aunt, sat in the third. The fourth one was empty. It was to be his. His father didn't move; he was in a deep coma, heavily sedated. Bren's mother grasped his hand gently. Setting it down, she and the other family members left the room. Once the door clicked shut, his father moved his head. It lolled limply from one side of his neck to the other, and now the sedated, dead look in his comatose father's eyes stared directly at Bren. This time, no burning, no pain. Just tears.

"Dad, I'm so sorry. I wanted to come see you. I…I tried. Dad, I just want you to be proud of me. I tried my best at everything, but it wasn't good enough. I just want you to be proud. I wish you were still here, Dad. You could see how I've gotten stronger. I…I love you, Dad. Goodbye." And then the image of his father disappeared. And Bren wept. He wept for what seemed like days. Until there were no more tears to come out. And then everything felt different. Like he was in freefall. Weightless. The burning pain was gone. He saw light breaking through the darkness that filled his vision. Suddenly, there were voices. Ones he knew.

"You said something was amiss. Tell me, how long has he been like this?"

"For two full nights now. It's been terrible, Zecora. He was screaming and weeping all day and all night. None of us could get any sleep. How long does this usually take?"

"It depends on the nature of the host, but a few hours at the very most." His eyes shot wide open and met with the familiar oak roof of Twilight's home. Absentmindedly, he sat up, gaze still clumsily fixed forward. He felt different. He still remembered all the horrible things he had been through. But now, they didn't hurt anymore. Jamie was gone. The criminal had gotten away. Craig and his team were gone. Dad was gone. But it didn't hurt now. Now he just felt like he needed to keep going. He felt…free.

"Bren! You're awake!" exclaimed Twilight.

"My friend! Is there any change in you to show?" asked Zecora. Bren smiled and completed her rhyme.

"I think I've finally let it all go."


	8. Chapter 8

Relocation Factor

Chapter 8: Adapt

Zecora merely dipped her head and went on her way. Bren barely noticed; he was too taken in by the way he felt. Everything was calm inside. It was a feeling he had quite literally never felt before. It was all gone. The death, the hatred, the sadness, the pain. He still remembered it, but it was as though…it had moved behind him. He no longer had to look it in the eye. It was left behind. Bren smiled. He felt like everything was in the realm of possibility. He could climb a mountain. He could swim the Atlantic. He could fight the strongest man in the world. But this victory wasn't his. He turned his head to the right towards Twilight Sparkle.

"Twi, I'm…I'm so sorry I doubted you and Zecora. I finally feel…okay." He gulped after remembering what he eavesdropped on her a few seconds before waking up. "I'm sorry I kept you awake. The screaming must have been terrible. Sorry you had to go through that."

"It's okay, Bren," said the unicorn. "A few days with rough sleep are a good trade to know you're okay." The pony cleared her throat. "Although, I think there's somepony you really owe a thanks to."

Bren nodded. "Of course. I need to tell Zecora." He was almost on his feet when Twilight stopped him.

"No." Bren looked at her, slightly confused. "Zecora did create the elixir. But she has to leave Ponyville for a few days. She was late as it is." Bren nodded. He hoped to get her back when she returned. "Who you really owe thanks to is Rainbow Dash." Bren cocked his head to the side in confusion. "Hearing you in pain like that was hard, Bren." Twilight Sparkle stood a bit taller. "It was terrible enough to be in this house and hear you go through that. Everypony else left after the first hour or so. Everypony except Rainbow Dash. She stayed right by you the whole time. Even when it got bad. Even when you were thrashing around, screaming at the top of your lungs. She was there the whole time." Bren dipped his head slightly. She had watched over him the whole time; he needed to thank her.

"Do you know where she is?"

"I'm not sure. She just took off a few hours ago."

Bren decided to wait for a while before seeking her out. He just wanted to explore this new world that he felt so peaceful in. Besides, he'd be likely to run into Rainbow Dash while he was taking another bath or something. He doubted that it'd be a while before he would see her. Right now, he wanted to move. He wanted to move his new, fixed body around.

"I'll run into her soon, I'm sure," said Bren. "I think I'll go for a bit of a stroll." He smiled and stood up. He re-strapped his boots on and collected the discarded items from his pockets. Almost oblivious to Twilight, he stepped out of the oak tree and breathed deeply. The sun shone unrestrained from the sky, bathing the village in pleasantly warm autumn heat. He took a few deep breaths, and after moving his head to the right, Bren saw that the village was rife with ponies milling about their daily activities. Having been previously been quite antisocial to them at his own welcome party, he felt it necessary to head in and make conversation with the locals. Walking cheerfully into town, the ponies of the town seemed slightly taken aback by Bren, yet not truly scared. For at least a half hour Bren repeated the same answers to about a dozen different ponies. Bren MacMillan. From Earth. The country of Canada. I'm not too sure how I really got here. Again and again he spat forward the answers. But repetition did not drain him. He was so energetic to meet new folks that he didn't mind repeating the same information. After the ponies milling about had all been either introduced to him or had left, he headed back towards Twilight's tree. Creaking the door open once more, he saw that Rarity had beaten him in and was sitting down with Twilight and having what appeared to be tea. Upon sighting the soldier, she magically returned her tea cup to the table and charged towards him, flinging her arms around him again in a melodramatic hug.

"Oh Bren, it's so good to see you awake at last! I'm not sure what was happening to you when you drank the elixir, but from the sound of you it must have been terrible!"

Bren awkwardly reciprocated the hug. He chuckled, as the pony reminded him of every drama queen he met in high school. "It wasn't the best experience I've ever been through, Rarity," he said. "But whatever it was, it worked. I feel great. Nearest I can put it, the past…doesn't hurt anymore." Rarity climbed down from him, her eyes about naturally level with the center of Bren's chest.

"I'm so glad to hear it, darling. I stayed with you as long as I could, but it was just too frightening. You were screaming and thrashing about like some kind of wild beast! Calling out names, crying, and threatening people, it was horrible!"

"I know, it must have been," Bren said, almost with a hint of guilt. "Twilight said I was at it for a few days. I'm really sorry to have put you all through that." He paused to collect his words. "Although, I do think I owe you and Twilight a thank you," he said, nodding to the purple pony. "Thank you for pushing me to do it, for finding someone to help me. And even though it got too hard to bear, thanks for staying by my side as long as you could. It means a lot to me." He thought back to all the people back home, who had told him he was "fine", or said "get over it", or the doctors that cleared him fit for duty after Jamie died. Then to think that these ponies who barely knew him had been more supportive than everyone else was staggering.

"It's the very least we could do, my dear. But there's somepony I think you owe thanks to more than Twilight and I."

Bren nodded. "Rainbow Dash. Twilight already let me know. She said she took off a few hours ago. I'm sure I'll run into her sooner or later."

"Actually, come to think of it, I ran into her earlier today while I was out taking care of some errands. She said she was headed over to Applejack's." Bren stood.

"I'd better head over and have a word with the two of them. Thanks again, you two. For everything." Bren headed out of the oak tree and towards Applejack's farm. After walking the familiar route in the pleasant sunlight, he arrived at the farm, seeing the familiar sight of ponies hard at work ploughing fields. He didn't see Applejack at her usual spot kicking the apples off the trees in the orchard, and concluded she must be inside the house. He strolled toward the front door. Before he was in arm's reach of the doorknob, a large, red pony stood in front of it, blocking his path. This one was definitely a male; it had broader shoulders, more defined muscle, and far taller, with its eyes coming just below Bren's chin. A strand of hay was protruding from its mouth. "You…uh…must be Big MacIntosh," said Bren, remembering Applejack mentioning his name earlier. He smiled an uneasy smile.

"Eeyup," said the red stallion. His cold gaze met Bren's, and he moved not a single muscle.

"Uh…is she here?" he asked.

"Eeyup," the stallion repeated, again refusing to move.

"Oh, uh…great," Bren said, taking a step to the side of Big Mac. "I just need to go in and have a word with her-"

Big MacIntosh sidestepped, blocking Bren's path. "Nope," he grunted, his gaze becoming more stern. Bren recoiled, more out of surprise than anything else. "Last time y'all was here, y'allmost hurt my sis real bad." He tapped his hoof on the ground. "I don't think y'all should be comin' round here no more."

Bren dipped his head. "Cured" or not, he had still done wrong. Big Mac was right to be defensive. But he had to get in; he had to tell her the good news. And that he was sorry. He hadn't spoken to her since they talked outside of Twilight's house. She had been with him all the way to Zecora's and back, but in an awkward silence. He had to speak to her. "Look, Mac. There's no denying what I did. I still feel terrible about it. But I've gotten help. Zecora fixed all of it. I need to talk to your sister and apologize. I don't know how much good it'll do, but I need to. I'll only be five minutes. If I'm in there longer, you can drag me out by my ears. Promise."

Big Mac shifted the hay from one side of his mouth to the other. "All right," he finally said. "Five minutes, no more."

Bren nodded. "Thanks, big guy." He opened the door and immediately heard voices coming from down the hall; he picked out the raspy lilt of Rainbow Dash, which was countered by the southern accent of Applejack. As he approached the room, the voiced rose from murmurs to more coherent words. His hand was inches away from opening the door when he heard one that stopped him.

"Bren," the voice said. It was clearly Applejack. They were talking about him. Bren withdrew his hand and put his ear to the door to listen.

"You don't get it, Applejack," piped in Rainbow Dash. "I really think what Zecora gave him worked."  
>"I dunno, sugar cube. I was right next to him for all that screamin' he was doing. Didn't y'all see how he was thrashin' his hands about? And how he kept yelling out that he was going to kill someone…it scared me half to death, it did." Applejack's warmth was absent from her voice.<p>

Rainbow Dash sounded off again, this time sounding noticeably angry. "How would you know? You left after two hours! I was there the whole time! He got better! I would have stayed right until the end if I didn't have to move the clouds this morning! He got so much better at the end! He was just lying there quietly when I left! It looked like it was almost over!" Bren smiled. So she really did stay next to him the whole time.

"I get that, Rainbow Dash. But you weren't there when that whole…thing happened. You didn't see the look in his eyes. He was like a wild animal. I ain't never been so scared in my life. What if he hadn't stopped himself when he did?" Upon hearing Applejack's retort, Bren's eyes hit the floor. She was right.

"Don't say that!" shouted Rainbow Dash. "He's not a wild animal! What happened wasn't his fault! You were there when he explained everything! Didn't you listen to a single word he said?"  
>"I know that, sugar cube, I know," Applejack's voice sounded dreadfully forlorn. An unwelcome change from her usual self. "But I don't know how well he can control himself. Or especially that other side of his. I think I…I just need some time. I just need some time to think…"<p>

Bren pulled his head away from the door. He had heard enough. "I need some time to think." He had heard that line before. His last girlfriend had said that to him after he got off his second tour, descending into a moody pit of alcoholism and withdrawn sadness. He had never found out how much time she needed; she left and he didn't chase her. He never saw her again. Applejack was doing the same thing. But Bren was fine with that. He understood. And while he was regretful that he couldn't keep her around, he was at the very least glad that she'd hopefully be the last person he'd lose due to his shell shock. A small smile crossed his face and a glimmer of hope shot through his heart as he remembered Rainbow Dash and the rest of the ponies faithfully staying with him the rest of the way.

Leaving through the front door and nodding towards Big MacIntosh, he headed back toward Ponyville, in a limbo-like state of both happiness and sadness. Turning towards Twilight's home, he encountered Rarity, on her way back to her shop.

"Hello, dear!" the Unicorn greeted. "How was your talk with Applejack and Rainbow Dash?"

"It didn't exactly happen, I'm afraid," replied Bren. "I overheard the two of them talking. I don't think Applejack is too comfortable around me still. Rightfully so."

Rarity looked shocked. "I can't believe what I'm hearing! Well, I'll have none of that! I'll head right on over there and let her know what's going on!" Rarity abruptly turned around and started to head toward the farm when Bren stopped her with a hand on her back.

"Rarity, no," he said softly. Confused, she turned around. "It's okay. She has every right to feel like that. All she needs is time." Bren sighed, remembering what happened the last time someone told her that. "Let's not forget that at the end of the day, it's still my fault. I know how she feels. Hell, I killed all of the guys that pulled weapons on me." Rarity looked horrified. Bren just gulped. "Even if she doesn't want to stay around me any more, I'll understand. She'll at least be the last one I push away like this." He forced a smile.

Bren, expecting another soap opera blubberfest, was surprised when Rarity kept her emotions in check. "Bren, I must disagree! Surely you don't want to lose another friend, do you?"

"That's the opposite of what I want. But I've learned that you can't chase people on things like this. You have to give them as much space as they need. If that amount of space means losing contact, well, that's just the way it goes. If you push too much, they get scared of you…" He thought back to the words Applejack used earlier. "They see you like a wild animal."

"Bren, please follow me back to my house," Rarity said abruptly said. "I do believe that this is a conversation we can't finish here on the side of the road." Bren silently agreed as he followed her home to a lavishly decorated dwelling adorned with pony-shaped mannequins, various measuring implements and sheets of fabric. A four corner bed with lush drapes sat in the corner. "Please, make yourself comfortable, darling," said Rarity. She ducked into the next room, returning momentarily with a set of tea cups and a pot, levitating in the air magically. That was one aspect of this place that would take Bren the longest to get used to: honest-to-God magic. "Now my dear, what were you saying earlier? I'm not quite sure I understand."

Bren told her the story of Candace, his first long-term girlfriend dealing with his PTSD and how he hadn't seen her since she left. Rarity again contained her daytime drama sobbing, but looked forlorn nonetheless. "You poor thing! Well, at least we can see through all that for who you really are." Bren smiled at the compliment. He wasn't that great a person. He had still done some bad things in his life. Still, it was good to hear it said. It almost reassured him. "Either way, I'm sure Candace has no idea what she's missing!" Bren was taken aback by this one. He wondered what she'd think if she saw him today. Cured! A miracle! He had barely given her a second thought in the years it had been since he'd seen her.

"Heh, I guess you're right. Maybe I should look her up when I get back home." His own words hit him. "If I get back home." He stared out the window for a brief moment, seeing the sun slowly set. "Listen, I should head back to Twilight's and get some proper sleep. Thanks for the tea. And the talk." He smiled and stood up.

"Bren, you're welcome here any time. And now that I think of it, you must stop by and let me make you an outfit!"

Bren hadn't thought of that. Apart from a polypropylene liner, the only clothes he had with him were what he was wearing. They'd start to deteriorate, and they would probably start to smell soon. It wasn't like he could wash them, unless he felt like walking around naked until it was done. "Much appreciated, Rarity. I'll see you tomorrow." He opened the door and stepped out into the dusk.

He stepped out into the twilight of the pony inhabited town. As he made his way toward Twilight Sparkle's house, he noticed that tonight was colder than the last night he remembered. He theorized that this place was on a similar axis to where he was from, and was approaching winter. If it was approaching winter now, and Afghanistan, where he had been the most recently before coming here, was also entering winter, then the axis of this planet must be similar to-

"BREN!" a familiar voice cried from behind him. The soldier's head was halfway towards looking around his shoulder when a cyan blur struck him square in the back, driving him to the ground. Reflexes not dulled by his newfound comfort, Bren managed to turn mid-fall so that he landed on his back rather than face down. As his vision focused, he saw that his assailant was an airborne Rainbow Dash. He grinned from ear to ear and said the only thing he could think of.

"Hey, you!" Bren gulped at the simplicity of his statement but held his smile nonetheless.

"I'm so glad to see you awake! It feels like it's been ages!" The cyan Pegasus held her head tight to Bren's chest. "How do you feel? Are you better now?"

Bren responded confidently despite the abruptness of her question. "I'm fixed now, Dash. Whatever Zecora gave me worked wonders. I feel like a new man."

"I'm so glad to hear that!" Rainbow Dash tightened the grip of her two front hooves around Bren's torso in what appeared to him as a hug. "You were screaming and flailing around and crying the whole time. You were asleep for so long; Zecora said that the elixir usually only took a few hours. You were out for days. We were beginning to think you'd never wake up."

"I guess three days is what I needed. I think the folks that Zecora is used to dealing with don't have…uh…eventful pasts like mine." Bren stayed silent for a moment. "Dash, can I get up, please?"  
>"Oh, uh, sure. Sorry about that," the cyan pony rolled off of him to the side, allowing him to stand up and dust himself off. As he turned to face her, he saw that despite the blue complexion, Rainbow Dash appeared to be blushing.<p>

Bren chuckled at her bashfulness. "No worries. Let's finish this talk back at Twilight's." Rainbow Dash nodded enthusiastically and the duo continued walking to the great oak tree. With a relieved sigh, Bren slumped down beside the door. Predictably, Rainbow promptly followed suit. Bren took a deep breath and said what he had waited to say all day. "Look, Dash, from what the others are telling me, it got pretty bad when I was blacked out on that elixir." Rainbow Dash shuddered and nodded. "Now, most of them had given up and left after an hour or two. And that's okay. I don't blame them at all. Lying beside an incoherent, screaming and crying man is hard for anyone to handle. But you…you stayed. You were there next to me for three whole days while I poured my guts out. Not going to sugar coat it, that takes some serious guts. Thanks. It's good to know that there's someone who's got my back a hundred per cent." He gave a warm smile.

Rainbow returned the favour. "Heh, no problem Bren. Yeah, it got tough, but someone had to stay with you and…um…make sure you were okay and not hurt. And hey, they don't say I've got the Element of Loyalty for nothing!" Bren chuckled at that. The smile dropped from his face when his next question came to mind: the conversation between her and Applejack he overheard at the farm.

"One more question." The cyan pony looked at Bren and nodded. "Why did you lie to me about Applejack?" Rainbow Dash suddenly looked highly nervous.

"Wha-what do you mean?" She stammered uncomfortably.

"When I ran into you at the pond, you said that Applejack wasn't afraid of me or uncomfortable," said Bren.

"She…uh, she isn't," she replied. Her stammer was still present.

"Rainbow Dash, you don't have to lie to me. I was at the farm this morning. I heard you and AJ talking. I heard what she said."

"What…you were there the whole time? What were you doing there?"

"I came over because I heard you were there and I wanted to say thanks for staying with me. As well, I wanted to tell Applejack the good news. I was just outside the kitchen door when I heard you talking about me." Rainbow Dash's eyes hit the ground.

"I…you're right Bren. She didn't say that. I only told you she did because I thought it would make you come back and talk with us. I thought maybe if you thought she wasn't angry you would want to come back." Her head drooped to the ground. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to lie to you."

Bren laid a reassuring hand on the back of her neck. "It's okay, Dash," he insisted. Her eyes looked up to meet his.

"Really?"  
>"Of course. I was never angry, even when I found out this morning. All I needed to know was why. Now that I know why you told me that, it makes a lot of sense." Rainbow Dash didn't seem to be reassured. "Honestly? I'm glad you did." She seemed to be every so slightly more uplifted. "If you hadn't said that to me, maybe I wouldn't have come back here. I would have just stayed there and moped or wandered somewhere or who knows what. Because of what you said, I came back, talked about it, and got some help. And now look. I'm a new man. I don't hold it against you at all. Where I'm from, we call that a white lie."<p>

The red returned to Rainbow's cheeks. "Yeah…I guess so. I still feel sorta…guilty though. I think you shouldn't lie to people, even when it's for the greater good."

Bren smiled. "Well, let's start this fresh. Clean off the slate. No more lies?" He extended his hand.

"No more lies," said Rainbow Dash as she extended a hoof to meet his hand. Bren stared awkwardly at it for a moment, unsure of how to perform the gesture, before grabbing the end of her hoof like a baseball and shaking it. He chuckled to himself at the comedy of it. Rainbow Dash looked up at him again. "So, you never did finish telling me about where you come from." Bren thought back to the night before he attacked Applejack. Last he could remember was telling here about Petawawa, where he was based out of. He did also give quite a bit of info on his past three days ago, but not a lot about the world he lived in; just ways that world was unkind to him.

"Well, what more do you want to know? I think I already told you a lot about where I live," replied Bren.

"You said people like you need machines to fly, right? What are they like?" Bren thought for a moment and decided it would be far easier to try and draw what aircraft looked like rather than a physics lesson. He opened up his breast pocket and pulled out an all-weather notebook and a pen. He flipped through a dozen or so pages of frequencies and range indicators until he found a blank page. There, he sketched to the best of his ability a jet fighter and a helicopter. Not exactly a work of art, but he surprised himself with his own penmanship in the drawings.

"Well, we have two ways to fly. We call them planes and helicopters," he said, pointing to the respective diagrams as he spoke. "Planes usually need to get a running start to take off, but they fly higher and faster. I work with helicopters like these a lot more. They can take off straight up and down, and since they're slower and fly lower to the ground, they can get into tighter spaces than planes, so we sometimes use them to drop us off or pick us up." He looked up at Rainbow Dash to see if she was following along, but was surprised by a forlorn look she was projecting into his eyes. "Hey, what's the matter?"

"Sorry…I was just thinking. What are you going to say to Applejack?"

Bren sighed. He wondered how many times he'd have to explain this today. "She said she needs space and time to think. That's exactly what I'll give her. If she's still too afraid to come near me, well, then I wish her nothing but the best. We'll just go our separate ways." The expression on Rainbow Dash's face was hard for Bren to decipher. She was about to speak, but Bren cut her off with the same rationale he gave Rarity. "I've had this happen to people I care about before. You can't intrude in their space at times like this."

"I guess…it just made me so mad when she said you were like a wild animal."

Bren thought of all the terrible things he'd done to people in the past. The pain associated with them was gone, but the memory lingered. "I am an animal," he replied flatly. "Or at least, maybe I was."

"Don't say that, Bren!" yelled the pony, now sounding noticeably angry.

"It's true. The things I've done to people…" he trailed off as he recalled all the things he had done to people that transcended morality. All in the name of the greater good…or so he kept telling himself. "It's funny…I joined because I was tired of the grey I saw with the police. I wanted everything to be black and white. But I guess you just can't run from grey." He remembered interrogating a man who had information on where roadside bombs were placed. This guy knew. But he played tough. So Bren had to use extreme methods. He electrocuted the man. He beat him savagely. He waterboarded him. He rubbed salt in the man's wounds. He finally coughed up the locations. _It was for the greater good,_ Bren had told himself. _It was to save lives._ Bren's mouth changed to the shape of a smile. "But then I came here, and there wasn't black and white or grey. Just colours. Nothing but bright and vibrant colours."

Rainbow Dash seemed to be assured, yet still showed signs of nervousness. "Why are you still sad? I thought Zecora fixed you."  
>"She did, in a way. All the pain I had with my life and the things I've done is gone. I've moved on from it. But that doesn't mean that the memories are gone."<p>

"Well…so long as you're okay, I'm glad." She pressed her head into his side and closed her eyes, exhaling deeply and nuzzling Bren's side. Bren smiled at the gesture. Again he placed his hand on the back of her neck and stroked it like she were a pet. To Bren's surprise she had similar reactions: stretching out her front legs and sighing in relaxation. She opened her eyes to the night sky. "Look, Bren! A shooting star! I've never seen one this bright before!" Bren looked up and traced the night sky with is eyes, trying to find movement. Something caught his eye and he moved to stare directly at it. It moved across the sky at an alarming rate. Blinking the whole way. Blinking. It was then that Bren realised what it was.

"That's not a shooting star, it's a satellite!" He sprung to his feet and bolted back inside to retrieve his gear. Rummaging through his pack as fast as he could, he retrieved the GPS and radio, extending the antenna on the radio to its full three metre length as he ran, charging out the door with the antenna in front of him like a lance. He checked the GPS, which confirmed his belief: it was definitely a satellite. With only one, he wouldn't be able to get a fix on his grid reference or location, but it was better than nothing. He switched on the radio and pushed the transmit button. "This is Sergeant Bren MacMillan. If you can hear me, I am unaware of my current whereabouts. My team and I were on a mission to retrieve a stolen piece of equipment called STARLIGHT. I say again, STARLIGHT. We were sent by Colonel Joson, who is in command of a well trained and equipped group of private contractors. They ambushed me and my team. As far as I am aware I am the only known survivor. Do not trust Joson. I say again, do not trust Joson." He released the Push to Talk switch and heard only static. He waited a few seconds and repeated his message. Still only static. He repeated it again. And again. Over and over he sent the message, his eyes still fixated on the rapidly disappearing blinking dot that was the satellite. With each repeat of the transmission he sent, his message became more frantic, his voice crackling at the stress and speeding up for fear of running out of time. He released the switch one last time and heard only static as the GPS displayed zero satellites in range. He exhaled sharply and sank down next to Rainbow Dash.

"Do…do you think anypony heard you? Back home, I mean?" Rainbow asked.

"I hope so, Rainbow Dash," said Bren, trailing off. The soldier and the pony both shifted their gazes upward and simply stared, silently observing the ever encompassing black sky.


	9. Chapter 9

Relocation Factor

Chapter 9: Static

For another moment of silence, Bren MacMillan and Rainbow Dash gazed up towards the stars. The satellite was gone; the rhythmic blinking had passed out of view long ago. Now, there was nothing moving in the night skies above Equestria. Bren now had no idea how to feel. Had you asked him a few days ago what he wanted, he would have stared you dead in the eye and elaborated on all the inhuman things he planned to do to Joson. But now? He wasn't sure. Maybe he could spend the rest of his days here. There had to be something he could do. Maybe. Just maybe. Did they have soldiers here? Yes, he remembered them saying something about the Royal Guard. But did he want to be a soldier again? Then again, what else could he do? But these were questions for later. As the old saying went, "No plan survives first contact". He'd figure something out. Something. Eventually.

For what seemed like years he just sat there, eyes trained upwards, face made of stone, going over thousands of options and scenarios in his head while running his hand through the mane of Rainbow Dash. Soon, he realized how futile it all was. The satellite was gone. Likely forever. And chances were that nobody heard him, because God knows where he was. This looked like it. He really was stuck here. He wouldn't get home. And that made Bren smile. Because what did he have back home? His mother? She sent him a Christmas card every year. If he stopped sending one back it'd probably be a decade before she realised he was missing. Craig and the rest of the team? They were dead, probably tossed in some mass grave somewhere. He was alone this time.

For the first time in years, Bren was excited. He had been given a fresh start. Beyond the fresh start he thought the Army would give him all those years ago. He now literally was worlds away. He breathed out, easy this time. And yet, he wanted to call home. Just for ten seconds. He wanted to talk to them, to hear a familiar voice, and to let them know he wasn't coming back. Maybe he could stay here. Maybe. He had always been one to take chances. Flip a coin. Roll the revolver's cylinder. Hit when you've got 19. Maybe he found the place he was looking for and maybe he hadn't. But damned if it didn't feel good. Roll the cylinder. You'll know for sure when the hammer strikes.

He snapped back to reality to notice the sleeping pony on his lap. He smiled. Doing his best not to disturb Rainbow Dash, he slipped his leg out from underneath her head and scooped his arms beneath her, lifting her and cradling her to his chest. She was surprisingly light; Bren guessed no more than 40 pounds. Transferring her weight to one arm, he opened the door to Twilight's house with the other. He set Rainbow Dash down on the blanket that normally covered him. He would tough out the night without covers. Not that it was that cold, anyway. But Bren wasn't tired yet. He placed the radio on the table and simply stared at it. Maybe it would talk to him if he thought hard enough.

xxxxx

**Cpl. John Stalvorn**

**CANSOFCOM Joint Signals Monitoring Station, Petawawa Ont.**

Corporal John Stalvorn waited at his station, an entangled web of communications equipment at his front. He sighed. This hadn't been a good month. 2 weeks ago, an entire 15 man patrol was ambushed and killed. Not a single survivor. The Taliban had hit them hard. From what he heard, there was no way they could have fought it off. A good friend of his, Sergeant MacMillan, was in that patrol. But something didn't add up. The bodies were gone. Taliban might desecrate bodies at the worst, but they were mostly hit and run. For them to haul off the corpses of 15 men, and not even parade them around on Al Jazeera was out of character for them. Suddenly, everything crackled to life.

"Hear….me….ver…" Stalvorn snapped to life, adjusting the console as best he could. The transmission was garbled, as if there were some kind of interference. It appeared to be relayed off a satellite. Satellite delay or atmospheric interference could be scrambling the message. "Mission….Starlight….Starlight…" Stalvorn twisted knobs and flipped switches. Nothing seemed to improve the quality of the message; he only succeeded in cutting out some of the noise. "…MacMillan…" Stalvorn froze. Brenny was alive. He shoved his ear closer. "…Ambushed….Starlight….Joson…Joson…" Stalvorn, furiously writing this information down, was confused. What was Starlight? Some kind of codeword? A signal? Bren had mentioned the name Joson twice. No doubt it was in reference to Colonel Joson.

John Stalvorn upped and headed for Colonel Graham Joson's office. He needed to find out what was going on.

xxxxx

Bren stared at the radio. Analyzing every detail of it. Pointless details. Where the paint was chipped. How the serial number was on crooked. He had no idea what he was looking for. When he heard the door open behind him, he barely noticed over the soft sound of radio static. A soft voice almost made him jump out of his skin.

"Hello, Bren!" Fluttershy said. Immediately noticing the sleeping Rainbow Dash, she lowered her already quiet voice to an almost inaudible level. "What are you doing up so late? Trying to get your machine to work again?" She nodded at the radio.

"Nah," he replied. He thought for a moment, trying to come up with an answer. He ultimately just chuckled and told her the truth. "Hah, I'm not really sure what I'm doing myself. What's up?"  
>"Oh…hehe. I just wanted to come and check up on you. I haven't seen you since Zecora gave you the elixir, and all that screaming and shouting you were doing was so scary," she said, getting noticeably more nervous as she recalled Bren's violent slumber. A pop from the crackling radio startled her, causing her to leap into the air and wrap her hooves around Bren's midsection, shuddering violently.<p>

"Relax, it's just static from the radio." Fluttershy squeaked bashfully and climbed down. Bren chuckled again.

"So…um, are you feeling better? I mean, you don't need to tell me if you don't want to…but I want to know…that is, if it's okay with you."

"Yeah, it's a world of difference…" Bren trailed off.

"Then what's wrong?" asked Fluttershy.

Bren sighed. "I had an opportunity to call home," Fluttershy looked awestruck. "But I don't think they heard me."

Fluttershy looked worried. "Oh, no! What will you do now?" Her voice had almost a childlike tone to it, not unlike a five year old trying to figure out what was wrong in a scenario he couldn't understand.

"That's…that's what I was working on when you came in."

"Well…I'll leave you be, then." Before the yellow Pegasus could leave, Bren stopped her with a soft hand, which she jumped slightly at the touch of.

"You don't have to. Honestly, I could use the company. But could we continue this outside? I was kind of enjoying the view."

"Oh, of course! I haven't really had that much of a chance to talk to you anyway!" Bren rose and followed Fluttershy out the door, taking the radio with him this time. Just in case. Back outside, he sat on the same patch of grass he was on before with Rainbow Dash. "So Bren, what were you saying about talking to your friends back home?"

"Dash thought she saw a shooting star, but it was a satellite, things my people put up in space to let us bounce signals around and talk to each other. I tried to get a signal, to have a word with anyone, or at the very least warn them about Joson, but I got nothing." He paused. "I guess I really am stuck here." Fluttershy looked both awestruck and depressed. "But I think it's too late for me. I don't even know where here is. And I'm willing to bet people back home don't either, nor would they have a way of getting to me even if they could somehow track me down." He felt a wave of emotion he hadn't felt in years; the stinging, watery feeling that lasts for only a split second when your body fights off tears. "But it's too late for me," Bren repeated. "What I really wanted to do? Let them know about Joson. Let someone know he's a dirty traitor."

"Bren, are you sure that nobody would be able to figure that out on their own?"  
>"Of course not. Some special forces patrol goes deep into hostile territory and gets whacked? Happens all the time. Who would suspect him? On the surface, he's got nothing to gain. If none of us could have figured him out, I doubt anyone else would have." Bren's fist clenched tight. "I'll bet you my left arm that bastard is at a funeral for us right now. He's probably sitting there, all decked-out in his best polished uniform, chest full of medals, in front of 15 identical empty coffins with Canadian flags draped over them. Telling everyone how we were the bravest men he knew and he was saddened that Canada had lost such good soldiers. Hell, the op was classified, so he probably lied about that too. Told everyone we died on a training accident or something. He's probably shaking some poor widow's hand and telling her how he can't imagine what she's going through."<p>

Fluttershy was so horrified she was quivering. "Bren…do your people really do this to each other? That just seems so…evil!"

Bren shrugged. "I guess. That word sort of lost meaning to me." He stood up and leaned against the trunk of the tree. "Fluttershy, your world is a lot different from mine. You know exactly who is bad and who isn't. Not where I come from. Asshole allies, friendly enemies, people doing the wrong thing for the right reason and people doing the right thing for the wrong reason. So much damned grey. I saw it in the police. I thought the army would be more black and white. Yes sir, no sir. Charge that hill. Run over there. Not there, there. And yet, here I am. I used to think I was one of the good guys. I'm not even sure what that word means anymore. I came for black and white and I got grey. Grey? What in the hell do I do with grey?" Bren chuckled. "You know what I was doing before I left for the mission that got me sent here? I was looking at joining the fire department." He looked at Fluttershy to verify that she understood the concept. She seemed to, so he continued. "That's the exception that proves the rule I guess. It's about as black and white as you get. No legal bullshit, no officer selling you out for a paycheck. I just pull your dumb ass out of the fire."  
>"That sounds like a good job, Bren! I think you should do that!" She sounded supportive. Again, five year old-like enthusiasm.<p>

He laughed. "Yeah, sure. Let me borrow your fax machine and I'll send them my resume in the morning." He saw she was confused again. "Sorry. Look, firefighting is a young fella's game. Most of the new guys they recruit are barely into their twenties. I'm not the oldest guy around, but I'm no spring chicken either."

"Well, could you maybe go back to…what you were doing before?"  
>"The police? Not likely. They don't usually take you back if you quit. You'd better have a damn good excuse. Better than 'I had a case that didn't go the way I wanted so I ran away to join the army." He sighed. "Usually guys in my position and with this much time in don't leave. They're lifers. Hang around until you hit the 25 year mark, or your body can't take it anymore and retire to a nice pension and a free case of PTSD. Some guys leave. But they usually don't go to civvy street. Listen, guys like me have the most unique skill set in the world. Lots of people pay top dollar for it. Tons of guys clear out and then go to a private company and make triple the amount. I'd be lying to you if I said I wasn't thinking of doing just that. Clearing out and being a God damned contractor. Then I wind up here, and everything changes."<p>

Fluttershy was still trying to wrap her head around how his world worked. "So if you hadn't been sent here, what would you have done?"

"Nothing. I'd be dead," Bren said rather bluntly, much to Fluttershy's shock. "Yep, no point in sugar coating it. I'd have a few rounds pumped into me and then dumped unceremoniously into the same mass grave they probably chucked my buddies in. Probably douse us in gas and light us on fire. Burn the bodies so they're harder to identify." He cleared his throat. "I don't know why it was me that survived. "

Fluttershy was flabbergasted. "Maybe…maybe you came here for a reason. Maybe Princess Celestia brought you here because she thought you could do good!"

"Did she? I'm not sure what that means anymore. But as far as I'm concerned, I've got a fresh start. Hell, let's see where it goes." He grinned. "Listen, I should get to bed. It's been a hell of the day. Glad we had this talk, though, eh?"

"Uh, yeah, Bren…it was good talking to you!" she smiled sheepishly. Bren returned the gesture and headed inside. He scooped up Rainbow Dash again and moved her to the side so he could lay down on his bedspread. Crossing his arms under his head, he stared up at the ceiling once and thought about what had just happened.

**Cpl. John Stalvorn**

**CANSOFCOM Joint Signals Monitoring Station, Petawawa, Ont.**

Stalvorn opened the door to Colonel Graham Joson's office, bringing his feet together and straightening his back while keeping his arms in place at his sides in lieu of a salute, since he was lacking a head dress. Joson returned the gesture, albeit from his seat and beckoned the corporal in, greeting him with a smile.

"What do you need, corporal? The secretary said you needed a word with me. Please, have a seat." The officer gestured to the empty chair across from him. Stalvorn nodded and obliged.

"Thank you, sir." He swallowed and thought of the best way to word this. He decided to go simply with the facts. "Sir, it's about Sergeant MacMillan's team. I think some of them may still be alive."

The Colonel tightened his pudgy jaw. "Listen, John, you know as well as I do that they were killed in action. I know you were close with Sergeant MacMillan, but you need to accept the fact that they're gone. Such is the tragedy of life in the military, and it's even more amplified in our line of work-"

"That's not the case, sir. I received a transmission from what appeared to be him twenty minutes ago."

Now Joson went pale. He cleared his throat. "Close the door." Stalvorn obeyed and then took his seat once more. "Now…I need you to tell me exactly what you heard in this message of yours."

"I didn't manage to hear much since the message was so weak," Said Stalvorn. "It sounded like it was a weak satellite transmission. He identified himself by name; I think he may have had to abandon all existing mission callsigns and code words. If that's the case, he's in deep trouble. I know it was him, sir. I'd recognize his voice anywhere."

"Did you manage to make out anything else?" said Joson, trying to hide his nervousness the best he could."

"The only other clear things I could make out were two different words that he kept repeating." The Colonel leaned in closer and silently urged him to continue. "The first was your name. The second sounded like 'star light'." Joson began to slowly sit up, his eyes widening. Stalvorn continued, absentmindedly focusing on the desk in front of him. "I'm not sure what it means. I think it's some kind of code word, but I pulled up the list of call signs and code words for the mission, and it doesn't match any, not even the backups or running passwords."

Joson pulled a sheet of paper and pen out of his desk and scribbled something onto it. He folded it into a neat pocket sized square and handed it to Stalvorn. "I need you to go to this address at midnight tonight and wait for me there. Tell nobody about this and make sure to trust no one as well." Stalvorn quickly stuffed the paper in his pocket and nodded quickly before getting up and heading to the door. "Don't worry, son. We'll get to the bottom of this." Stalvorn nodded and once more gave his straight arm salute, a favour which Joson half-heartedly returned. The second the door closed behind the departing corporal, Joson plucked a phone out of his desk and dialled a number.

"Greaves, it's Joson. We need to re-activate and run additional tests on the Alpha prototype. I want you to find the data that contained the last coordinates it was set to and begin testing. The sooner we can move equipment and men through the better. I'll explain everything tonight. Meet me at the usual place at the usual time. Come well dressed. We have a loose end."

Bren awoke suddenly as something shot through him. A pain in his chest that felt like a bad acid reflux case. A feeling lingered in his mind like the last wafts of scent from a candle in an empty room. It felt like hate. He hated something. But he wasn't supposed to. He was cured, dammit. Zecora had whipped up that magic juice and flushed all of the bad feelings right out of him. _Looks like she missed one._ Bren grimaced. Maybe it was too good to be true. Maybe trusting magic wasn't the best idea for this one. Sitting upright, he looked around the room. Early daylight was beginning to pour through the windows, and Rainbow Dash was once again nowhere to be found. Bren put his head back down and tried to get comfortable again, but couldn't. There was something like a constant itch within him, one that no matter which way he turned, left him restless for movement. His body was telling him, _no, get up, you're not supposed to be here._ He sat up again and scanned the room, his eyes settling on the corner where his neglected weaponry and gear lay. Then it made sense.

Bren needed to shoot.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hoo boy, been a long time for this one, and for that I really, really apologize. I know a lot of people like this story, and that's why I'm really sorry for having to make you all wait this long. Let's just say life got in the way, hard, and leave it at that. In any case, I'll try to get back on a more regular schedule now, as we're passed the filler chapters mostly and heading into the meat and bones. Once again, thanks so much for the kind words of support and reviews.**


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